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THE  COMPLETE  WORKS  OF 
SAINT  TERESA  OF  JESUS 


THE   COMPLETE   WORKS    OF 
SAINT   TERESA    OF   JESUS 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE   CRITICAL  EDITION  OF 

P.    SILVERIO   DE,  SANTA   TERESA,    CJX 

AND   EDITED  BY 

E.  ALLISON   PEERS 


VOLUME  I: 

GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

LIFE 
SPIRITUAL   RELATIONS 


NEW  YORK 
SHEED  &'  WARD 

1946 


BY  SHEED  AND  WARD,  ING. 

63  FIFTH  AVENUE, 

NEW  YORK 


NIHIL  OBSTAT 

REGINALDXJS  PHILLIPS,  STJL 

CENSOR  DEPUTATUS 
IMPRIMATUR 

E.  MORROGH  BERNARD 

Vic.  GEN. 
Wcstmonasterii,  die  i6a  Junii,  1944 


THE   BOOK   IS    PRODUCED 

IN  COMPLETE  CONFORMITY 

WITH  THE  AUTHORIZED  ECONOMY  STANDARDS 


PRINTED  IN  GREAT  BRITAIN 


To  THE  GRACIOUS  MEMORY 
OF 

P.  EDMUND  GURDON 

Sometime  Prior  of  the  Carthusian  Monastery 
of  Miraflores 

A  MAN  OF  GOD 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  I 

PAGE 

TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  xiii 

PRINCIPAL  ABBREVIATIONS  xxv 

AN  OUTLINE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  ST.  TERESA  xxvii 

GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  WORKS  OF  ST.  TERESA  xxxvii 


THE  LIFE  OF  THE  HOLY  MOTHER  TERESA  OF  JESUS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION i 

CHAPTER  I. — Describes  how  the  Lord  began  to  awaken  her  soul  in  childhood 

to  a  love  of  virtue  and  what  a  help  it  is  in  this  respect  to  have  good  parents  .         i  o 

CHAPTER  II. — Describes  how  these  virtues  were  gradually  lost  and  how 

important  it  is  in  childhood  to  associate  with  people  of  virtue        .  .         12 

CHAPTER  III. — Describes  how  good  companionship  helped  to  awaken 
desires  in  her  and  the  way  in  which  the  Lord  began  to  give  her  light  con- 
cenung  the  delusion  under  which  she  had  been  suffering  .  .  .17 

CHAPTER  IV.— Describes  how  the  Lord  helped  her  to  force  herself  to  take 
the  habit  and  tells  of  the  numerous  infirmities  which  His  Majesty  began 
to  send  her  ........  ao 

CHAPTER  V. — Continues  to  tell  of  the  grievous  infirmities  which  she  suffered 
and  of  the  patience  given  her  by  the  Lord,  and  of  how  He  brings  good 
out  of  evil,  as  will  be  seen  from  an  incident  which  happened  to  her  in  the 
place  where  she  went  for  treatment.  .....  26 

CHAPTER  VL— Describes  all  that  she  owed  to  the  Lord  for  granting  her 
resignation  in  such  great  trials;  and  how  she  took  the  glorious  Saint  Joseph 
for  her  mediator  and  advocate;  and  the  great  profit  that  this  brought  her.  32 

CHAPTER  VTL— Describes  how  she  began  to  lose  the  favours  which  the  Lord 
had  granted  her  and  how  evil  her  life  became.  Treats  of  the  harm  that 
comes  to  convents  from  laxity  in  the  observance  of  the  rule  of  enclosure  .  37 

CHAPTER  VIII.— Treats  of  the  great  benefit  which  she  derived  from  not 
entirely  giving  up  prayer  lest  she  should  rum  her  soul.  Describes  the 
excellence  of  prayer  as  a  help  towards  regaining  what  one  has  lost.  Urges 
all  to  practise  it.  Says  what  great  gain  it  brings  and- how  great  a  benefit  it 
is,  even  for  those  who  may  later  give  it  up,  to  spend  some  time  on  a  thing 
which  is  so  good  .......  48 


viu  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  IX. — Describes  the  means  by  which  the  Lord  began  to  awaken    PAGE 
her  soul  and  to  give  her  hght  amid  such  great  darkness,  and  to  strengthen 
the  virtues  in  her  so  that  she  should  not  offend  Him        .  .  -54 

CHAPTER  X. — Begins  to  describe  the  favours  which  the  Loid  granted  her 
in  prayer.  Explains  what  part  we  ourselves  can  play  here,  and  how  im- 
portant it  is  that  we  should  understand  the  favours  which  the  Lord  is 
granting  us.  Asks  those  to  whom  she  is  sending  this  that  the  remainder 
of  what  she  writes  may  be  kept  secret,  since  she  has  been  commanded  to 
describe  in  great  detail  the  favours  granted  her  by  the  Lord  .  .  57 

CHAPTER  XI. — Gives  the  reason  why  we  do  not  learn  to  love  God  perfectly 
in  a  short  time.  Begins,  by  means  of  a  comparison,  to  describe  four  degrees 
of  prayer,  concerning  the  first  of  which  something  is  here  said.  Trxis  is 
most  profitable  for  beginners  and  for  those  who  are  receiving  no  consola- 
tions in  prayer  .......  62 

CHAPTER  XII.— Continues  to  describe  this  first  state.  Tells  how  far,  with 
the  help  of  God,  we  can  advance  by  ourselves  and  describes  the  harm, 
that  ensues  when  the  spirit  attempts  to  aspire  to  unusual  and  super- 
natural experiences  before  they  are  bestowed  upon  it  by  the  Lord  .  .  70 

CHAPTER  XIII. — Continues  to  describe  this  first  state  and  gives  counsels 
for  dealing  with  certain  temptations  which  the  devil  is  sometimes  wont 
to  prepare.  This  chapter  is  very  profitable  .  .  .  .74 

CHAPTER  XTV. — Begins  to  describe  the  second  degree  of  prayer,  in  which 
the  Lord  grants  the  soul  experience  of  more  special  consolations.  This 
description  is  made  in  order  to  explain  the  supernatural  character  of  these 
consolations.  It  should  be  most  carefully  noted  .  .  .  .83 

CHAPTER  XV. — Continues  speaking  of  the  same  subject  and  gives  certain 
counsels  as  to  how  the  soul  must  behave  in  this  Prayer  of  Quiet.  Tells 
how  there  are  many  souls  who  attain  to  this  prayer  and  few  who  pass 
beyond  it.  The  things  touched  herein  are  very  necessary  and  profitable  .  88 

CHAPTER  XVI.— Treats  of  the  third  degree  of  prayer  and  continues  to 
expound  very  lofty  matters,  describing  what  the  soul  that  reaches  this 
state  is  able  to  do  and  the  effects  produced  by  these  great  favours  of  the 
Lord.  This  chapter  is  well  calculated  to  uplift  the  spirit  in  praises  to  God 
and  to  provide  great  consolation  For  those  who  reach  this  state  .  .  96 

CHAPTER  XVII. — Continues  the  same  subject,  the  exposition  of  this  third 
degree  of  prayer  Concludes  her  exposition  of  the  effects  produced  by  it. 
Describes  the  hindrances  caused  in  this  state  by  the  imagination  and  the 
memory  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .100 

CHAPTER  XVIII  — Treats  of  the  fourth  degree  of  prayer.  Begins  to  describe 
in  an  excellent  way  the  great  dignity  conferred  by  the  Lord  upon  the  soul 
in  this  state.  This  chapter  is  meant  for  the  great  encouragement  of  those 
who  practise  prayer  to  the  end  that  they  may  strive  to  reach  this  lofty 
state,  which  it  is  possible  to  attain  on  earth,  though  not  through  our 
merits  but  by  the  Lord's  goodness.  Let  it  be  read  with  attention,  for  its 
exposition  is  most  subtle  and  it  contains  most  noteworthy  things  .  .105 

CHAPTER  XIX.~Continues  the  same  subject.  Begins  to  describe  the  effects 
produced  in  the  soul  by  this  decree  of  prayer.  Exhorts  souls  earnestly  not 
to  turn  back,  even  if  after  receiving  this  favour  they  should  fall,  and  not 
to  give  up  prayer.  Describes  the  harm  that  will  ensue  if  they  do  not  follow 
this  counsel.  This  chapter  is  to  be  read  very  carefully  and  will  be  of  great 
comfort  to  the  weak  and  to  sinners  .  .  .  .  .  1 1 1 


CONTENTS  ix 

CHAPTER  XX. — Treats  of  the  difference  between  union  and  rapture.    PAGE 
Describes  the  nature  of  rapture  and  says  something  of  the  blessing  that 
comes  to  the  soul  which  the  Lord,  of  His  goodness,  brings  to  it.  Describes 
the  effects  which  it  produces    This  chapter  is  particularly  admirable       .       119 

CHAPTER  XXI. — Continues  and  ends  the  account  of  this  last  degree  of 
prayer.  Describes  the  feelings  of  the  soul  in  this  state  on  its  return  to  life 
in  the  world  and  the  light  which  the  Lord  sheds  for  it  on  the  world's 
delusions.  Contains  good  doctrine  .  .  .  .130 

CHAPTER  XXII. — Describes  how  safe  a  practice  it  is  for  contemplatives 
not  to  uplift  their  spirits  to  lofty  things  if  they  are  not  so  uplifted  by  the 
Lordj  and  how  the  path  leading  to  the  most  exalted  contemplation  must 
be  the  Humanity  of  Christ.  Tells  of  an  occasion  on  which  she  was  herself 
deceived.  This  chapter  is  very  profitable  .  .  .  .136 

CHAPTER  XXIII. — Resumes  the  description  of  the  course  of  her  life  and 
tells  how  and  by  what  means  she  began  to  aim  at  greater  perfection.  It 
is  of  advantage  for  persons  who  are  concerned  in  the  direction  of  souls 
that  practise  prayer  to  know  how  they  must  conduct  themselves  in  the 
early  stages.  The  profit  that  she  herself  gamed  thereby  .  145 

CHAPTER  XXIV.— Continues  the  subject  already  begun.  Describes  how 
her  soul  profited  more  and  more  after  she  began  to  obey,  how  little  it 
availed  her  to  resist  the  favours  of  God  and  how  His  Majesty  went  on 
giving  them  to  her  in  increasing  measure  .  .  .  .152 

CHAPTER  XXV. — Discusses  the  method  and  manner  in  which  these  locu- 
tions bestowed  by  God  on  the  soul  are  apprehended  without  being  heard 
and  also  certain  kinds  of  deception  which  may  occur  here  and  the  way  to 
recognize  them.  This  chapter  is  most  profitable  for  anyone  who  finds  him- 
self at  this  stage  of  prayer  because  the  exposition  is  very  good  and  contains 
much  teaching  .  .....  156 

CHAPTER  XXVI. — Continues  the  same  subject.  Goes  on  with  the  descrip- 
tion and  explanation  of  things  which  befell  her  and  which  rid  her  of  her 
fears  and  assured  her  that  it  was  the  good  spirit  that  was  speaking  to  her  .  1 66 

CHAPTER  XXVII. — Treats  of  another  way  in  which  the  Lord  teaches  the 
soul  and  in  an  admirable  manner  makes  His  will  plain  to  it  without  the 
use  of  words.  Describes  a  vision  and  a  great  favour,  not  imaginary,  granted 
her  by  the  Lord.  This  chapter  should  be  carefully  noted  .  .  .169 

CHAPTER  XXVIIL— Treats  of  the  great  favours  which  the  Lord  bestowed 
upon  her,  and  of  His  first  appearance  to  her.  Describes  the  nature  of  an 
imaginary  vision.  Enumerates  the  important  effects  and  signs  which 
this  produces  when  it  proceeds  from  God.  This  chapter  is  very  profitable 
and  should  be  carefully  noted  .  .  .  .  .  .178 

CHAPTER  XXIX.— Continues  the  subject  already  begun  and  describes 
certain  great  favours  which  the  Lord  showed  her  and  the  things  which 
His  Majesty  said  to  her  to  reassure  her  and  give  her  answers  for  those  who 
opposed  her  ........  187 

CHAPTER  XXX.—- Takes  up  the  course  of  her  life  again  and  tells  how  the 
I^prd  granted  her  great  relief  from  her  trials  by  bringing  her  a  visit  from 
the  holy  man,  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara,  of  the  Order  of  the  glorious  Saint 
Francis.  Discusses  the  severe  temptations  and  interior  trials  which  she 
sometimes  suffered  .  .  •  •  ...  .  194 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXXI.— Treats  of  certain  outward  temptations  and  representa-    PAGE 
tions  made  to  her  by  the  devil  and  of  tortures  which  he  caused  her. 
Discusses  likewise  several  matters  which  are  extremely  useful  for  people 
to  know  if  they  are  walking  on  the  road  to  perfection         .  .  .       204 

CHAPTER  XXXII.— Tells  how  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  cany  her  in  spirit 
to  a  place  in  heU  which  she  had  merited  for  her  sins.  Describes  a  part  of 
what  was  shown  her  there.  Begins  to  tell  of  the  way  and  means  whereby 
the  convent  of  Saint  Joseph  was  founded  in  the  place  where  it  now  is  .  215 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. — Proceeds  with  the  same  subject — the  foundation  of 
the  convent  of  the  glorious  Saint  Joseph.  Tells  how  she  was  commanded  not 
to  continue  it,  how  for  a  time  she  gave  it  up,  how  she  suffered  various 
trials  and  how  in  all  of  them  she  was  comforted  by  the  Lord  .  .  223 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. — Describes  how  about  this  time  she  had  to  leave  the 
place,  for  a  reason  which  is  given,  and  how  her  superior  ordered  her  to 
go  and  comfort  a  great  lady  who  was  in  sore  distress.  Begins  the  descrip- 
tion of  what  happened  to  her  there,  of  how  the  Lord  granted  her  the  great 
favour  of  being  the  means  whereby  His  Majesty  aroused  a  great  person 
to  serve  Him  in  real  earnest  and  of  how  later  she  obtained  help  and  pro- 
tection from  Him.  This  chapter  should  be  carefully  noted  .  .  232 

CHAPTER  XXXV. — Continues  the  same  subject — the  foundation  of  this 
house  of  our  glorious  Father  Saint  Joseph.  Tells  how  the  Lord  brought  it 
about  that  holy  poverty  should  be  observed  there  and  why  she  left  that 
lady,  and  describes  several  other  things  that  happened  to  frer  ,  .  241 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. — Continues  the  subject  already  begun  and  describes 
the  completion  of  the  foundation  of  this  convent  of  the  glorious  Saint 
Joseph,  and  the  great  opposition  and  numerous  persecutions  which  the 
nuns  had  to  endure  after  taking  the  habit,  and  the  great  trials  and  tempta- 
tions which  she  suffered,  and  how  the  Lord  delivered  her  from  everything 
victoriously,  to  His  glory  and  praise  .....  248 

CHAPTER  XXXVII.— Describes  the  effects  produced  upon  her  after  the  Lord 
had  granted  her  any  favour.  Adds  much  sound  teaching.  Says  how  we 
must  strive  in  order  to  attain  one  degree  more  of  glory  and  esteem  it  highly 
and  how  for  no  trial  must  we  renounce  blessings  which  are  everlasting  .  261 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII.— Describes  certain  great  favours  which  the  Lord 
bestowed  upon  her,  both  in  showing  her  certain  heavenly  secrets  and  in 
granting  her  other  great  visions  and  revelations  which  His  Majesty  was 
pleased  that  she  should  experience.  Speaks  of  the  effects  which  these 
produced  upon  her  and  of  the  great  profit  which  they  brought  to  her  soul  267 

CHAPTER  XXXIX, — Continues  the  same  subject  and  tells  of  the  great 
favours  which  the  Lord  has  shown  her.  Describes  His  promises  to  her  on 
behalf  of  persons  for  whom  she  might  pray  to  Him,  Tells  of  some  out- 
standing respects  in  which  His  Majesty  has  granted  her  this  favour  .  279 

CHAPTER  XL. — Continues  the  same  subject  and  tells  of  the  great  favours 
which  the  Lord  has  granted  her.  From  some  of  these  may  be  obtained 
most  excellent  teaching,  and,  next  to  obedience,  her  principal  motive  in 
writing  has  been,  as  she  has  said,  to  convey  this  instruction  and  to  describe 
such  favours  as  are  for  the  profit  of  souls.  With  this  chapter  the  narrative 
of  her  life  which  she  has  written  comes  to  an  end.  May  it  ,be  to  the  glory 
of  the  Lord.  Amen  .......  290 

Letter  written  by  the  Saint  to  Father  Garcia  de  Toledo  when  sending  him  her  Life.  299 


CONTENTS  xi 


SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  ADDRESSED  BY  SAINT  TERESA 
OF  JESUS  TO  HER  CONFESSORS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION.  301 

RELATION  L — From  the  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila,  in  the  year  1560.    306 

RELATION  II*— -From  the  Palace  of  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Cerda,  in  the  year  1562.  314 

RELATION  III. — From  Saint  Joseph's,  Avila,  in  the  year  1563.  316 

RELATION  IV.— From  Seville,  in  the  year  1576.  319 

RELATION  V. — From  Seville,  hi  the  year  1576.  337 

RELATION  VI.— From  Palcncia,  in  the  year  1581.  334 

•FAVOURS  OF  GOD:  VII  to  LXVII.  337 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 


For  some  time  after  completing  my  translation  of  the  Complete 
Works  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  in  the  year  1935, 1  had  no  thought 
of  preparing  a  similar  edition  of  the  works  of  that  other  great 
Carmelite,  to  whom  he  owed  so  much,  St.  Teresa.  Even  when 
the  welcome  given  to  the  works  of  el  Santo  in  their  new  dress 
showed  what  an  unexpectedly  and  encouragingly  large  public 
there  now  was  for  this  type  of  literature,  it  seemed  to  me  that  la 
Santa  was  on  the  whole  sufficiently  well  served  by  the  translations 
already  in  existence.  But  many  readers  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross 
were  not  of  this  opinion:  not  all  St.  Teresa's  works,  they  said, 
had  been  satisfactorily  translated;  not  all  of  them,  even,  were 
based  on  an  up-to-date  Spanish  text;  and,  in  any  case,  there 
was  ample  room  for  a  fresh,  modern  version  of  the  Complete 
Works,  made  by  a  single  hand,  with  footnotes  of  an  elucidatory 
rather  than  a  piously  discursive  type — an  edition,  furthermore, 
which  would  facilitate  individual  study  by  providing  compre- 
hensive indices. 

As  time  went  on,  this  point  of  view  was  increasingly  pressed 
upon  me,  and  by  a  great  variety  of  people.  In  Spain,  a  well- 
known  Academician  asked  me  when  a  complete  St.  Teresa  was  to 
appear  in  English;  in  the  American  South-west,  a  remote  com- 
munity of  Carmelite  nuns  whom  I  visited  put  the  same  question; 
in  England,  the  remark  became  almost  a  commonplace.  At  last 
I  began  to  reconsider  the  position.  The  only  easily  accessible 
versions  of  the  Life  and  the  Foundations  were  still,  though  they 
had  been  several  times  revised,  essentially  the  versions  made  by 
David  Lewis  in  1870-1:  as  regards  both  language  and  inter- 
pretation they  could  certainly  be  greatly  bettered.  The  Stan- 
brook  Benedictines'  translation  of  the  Interior  Castle,  the  Way  of 
perfection  and  the  Minor  Works  (in  prose  and  verse)  dated  from 
the  beginning  of  this  century  and  were  much  superior  to  Lewis; 
yet  since  these  volumes  had  first  appeared  P.  Silverio  de  Santa 
Teresa  had  published  his  comprehensive  and  critical  Spanish 
edition  of  the  Complete  Works,  which  would  make  it  possible  to 
add  a  good  deal,  especially  in  the  Way  of  perfection,  to  what  was 
already  available.  The  most  recently  published  translation, 
was  that  made  by  the  Benedictines  of  Stanbrook  of  the  Letters 
(4  vols,  1919-24).  This  excellent  piece  of  work  was  unfortunately 
completed  before  P.  Silverio's  three-volume  edition  of  the 


xiv  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

Letters  appeared,  and,  though  in  1927  its  editors  brought  out  an 
appendix  to  their  final  volume  consisting  of  twenty-two  letters 
and  some  fragments  to  which  they  had  not  previously  had 
access,  there  is  a  good  deal  in  P.  Silverio's  three  volumes  which 
it  would  be  worth  while  to  pass  on  to  the  English  reader.  None 
the  less,  the  Letters  presented  the  least  urgent  part  of  the 
problem. 

After  full  consideration,  I  decided  to  undertake  an  edition  of 
the  Complete  Works,  publishing  them  all,  in  one  series,  as  soon 
as  might  be,  with  the  exception  of  the  Letters,  a  new  edition  of 
which  it  seemed  better  to  postpone  for  the  present,  since  it  would 
be  strange  if  the  recent  years  of  upheaval  in  Spain  did  not  lead 
to  fresh  discoveries.  Accordingly,  the  work  was  begun  in  the 
summer  of  1939,  continued  throughout  the  whole  period  of  the 
War  and  is  only  now  completed. 

II 

It  might  be  thought  that  St.  Teresa — so  often  colloquial  and 
matter-of-fact  in  her  language — would  be  a  great  deal  easier 
to  translate  than  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  but  the  truth  is  very  nearly 
the  exact  opposite.  There  are  certainly  passages  and  phrases 
in  St.  John  of  the  Cross  which  present  the  greatest  difficulty, 
but  they  are  relatively  few:  for  all  the  sublimity  of  his  teaching, 
his  expression  is,  as  a  rule,  crystal-clear,  and  at  every  turn  the 
translator  is  assisted  by  his  logical  and  orderly  mind  and  by  his 
great  objectivity.  Much  of  St.  Teresa's  work,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  autobiographical  narrative,  and,  even  in  that  part  of  it  which  is 
not,  every  page  bears  the  indelible  impress  of  her  forceful  and 
vivid  personality.  In  addition  to  the  difficulty  of  interpreting 
that  personality  by  means  of  a  translation  there  are  stylistic 
difficulties  of  a  kind  presented  by  few,  if  any,  other  Spanish 
writers  of  the  first  rank.  As  an  appreciation  of  these  two  points 
will  help  us  to  a  fuller  understanding  of  the  qualities  of  the  work 
of  St.  Teresa,  it  will  be  worth  our  while  to  consider  them  in 
greater  detail. 

i.  To  Spaniards  there  is  no  writer  whose  personality  com- 
municates itself  with  greater  immediacy  and  intensity  than 
does  that  of  St.  Teresa — and  this  both  because  of  her  almost 
complete  disregard  of  the  literary  conventions  and  because  in 
nothing  that  she  wrote  could  her  strong  individuality  ever  be 
concealed.  No  translator  could  hope  to  convey  that  impression 
as  fully  and  forcibly  as  do  the  original  words,  but  he  is  not  there- 
fore exempted  from  the  obligation  to  convey  as  much  of  it  as 
possible.  In  an  attempt  to  do  this,  I  have  denied  to  her  vigorous 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  xv 

and  pugnacious  phrases  the  superfluous  words  in  which  another 
age  might  have  clothed  them.  In  such  passages  as  these  we  can 
hear  the  authentic  and  virile  note  of  a  saint  unlike  any  to  be  found 
in  a  stained-glass  window: 

"Rest,  indeed!"  I  would  say.  "I  need  no  rest;  what  I  need 
is  crosses."1 

We  can  make  use  only  of  a  single  cell — what  do  we  gain 
by  its  being  very  large  and  well  built?  What,  indeed?  We 
have  not  to  spend  all  our  time  looking  at  the  walls.2 

"Oh,  the  devil,  the  devil!"  we  say,  when  we  might  be  saying 
"God!  God!"  and  making  the  devil  tremble.  Of  course  we 
might,  for  we  know  he  cannot  move  a  finger  unless  the  Lord 
permits  it.  Whatever  are  we  thinking  of?  I  am  quite  sure  I 
am  more  afraid  of  people  who  are  themselves  terrified  of  the 
devil  than  I  am  of  the  devil  himself. 3 

If  Thou  wilt  (prove  me)  by  means  of  trials,  give  me  strength 
and  let  them  come.4 

In  rendering  these  and  similar  phrases  I  have  had  always  in 
my  mind  the  Teresa  whom  I  have  come  to  know  through  close 
contact  with  her  over  many  years.  A  woman  who  made  her 
decisions  and  then  stuck  to  them  regardless  of  the  consequences : 

I  was  well  aware  that  there  was  ample  troubleln  store  for  me, 
but,  as  the  thing  was  now  done,  I  cared  very  little  about  that.5 

Who,  if  she  ever  thought  she  was  afraid  of  the  Inquisition,  would 
"go  and  pay  it  a  visit  of  (her)  own  accord."6  And  who  counselled 
her  nuns  to  be  like  herself: 

Strive  like  strong  men  until  you  die  in  the  attempt,  for  you 
are  here  for  nothing  else  than  to  strive.7 

Again,  St.  Teresa  has  continual  outbursts  of  sanctified  common- 
sense,  humour  and  irony.  "I  just  laughed  to  myself"  is  a  type 
of  phrase  which  we  continually  meet  in  her  work  and  she  has  left 
us  an  excellent  specimen  of  her  sustained  laughter  in  the  "Judg- 
ment .  .  .  upon  various  writings".8  She  particularly  disliked 
pretentiousness,  even  in  what  was  good,  and  castigated  it  with 

*Life,  Chap.  XJII  (Vol.  I,  p.  76,  below). 

*  Foundations,  Chap.  XIV  (VoL  III,  p.  66,  below). 

8  Life,  Chap.  XXV  (VoL  I,  p.  165,  below). 

4  Way  of  perfection,  Chap.  XXXII  (Vol.  II,  p.  138,  below). 

5  Life,  Chap.  XXXVI  (Vol.  I,  p.  253,  below). 
8  Life,  Chap.  XXXIII  (VoL  I,  p.  226,  below). 

7  Way  of  perfection,  Chap.  XX  (VoL  II,  p.  86,  below). 

8  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  229-31,  below. 


xvi  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

those  most  effective  weapons.  Even  into  that  sublime  commentary 
on  the  Song  of  Songs  entitled  the  Conceptions  of  the  LoveofGod,  creeps 
a  delightfully  shrewd  description  of  the  lady  whose  self-importance 
was  so  intimately  mingled  with  her  devoutness.  She,  and  others 
like  her, 

were  saints  in  their  own  opinion,  but,  when  I  got  to  know  them, 
they  frightened  me  more  than  all  the  sinners  I  have  ever  met.1 

Some  of  her  stories  are  shot  through  and  through  with  an  allusive 
humour  which  it  needs  all  one's  ingenuity  to  render — such  are  the 
accounts  of  her  visit  to  Duruelo,  with  Fray  Antonio  sweeping  out 
the  porch  and  the  depression  caused  in  the  business  men  who 
came  with  her  from  Medina  by  all  those  crosses  and  skulls2; 
her  efforts  to  address  a  great  lady  as  befitted  her  rank  and  how 
she  "got  it  wrong";3  poor  Maria  del  Sacramento  and  her  attack 
of  nerves  on  All  Souls'  eve  in  the  sparsely  furnished  convent  at 
Salamanca4;  the  group  of  devout  ladies  at  Villanueva,  only  one  of 
whom  could  read  with  any  ease,  who  tried  to  recite  their  Office 
using  different  versions  of  the  Breviary:  "God  will  have  accepted 
their  intention  and  labour,  but  they  can  have  said  very  little  that 
was  correct.5'6  No  less  apt  to  evade  one  are  innumerable  little 
natural  touches  which,  in  the  English,  if  carelessly  rendered, 
might  easily  pass  unnoticed : 

I  was  .  .  .  ashamed  to  go  to  my  confessor  ...  for  fear  he 
might  laugh  at  me  and  say:  "What  a  Saint  Paul  she  is,  with 
her  heavenly  visions !  Quite  a  Saint  Jerome ! "  6 

Blessed  be  Thou,  Lord,  Who  hast  made  me  so  incompetent 
and  unprofitable!7 

I  only  wish  I  could  write  with  both  hands,  so  as  not  to  forget 
one  thing  while  I  am  saying  another. 8 

From  foolish  devotions  may  God  deliver  us.9 

And  in  her  less  frequent  ironical  passages,  such  as  the  description 
in  the  Way  of  perfection  of  how  the  devil  invents  "laws  by  which 
we  (nuns)  go  up  and  down  in  rank,  as  people  do  in  the  world",10 

1  Conceptions  of  the  love  of  God,  Chap.  II  (Vol.  II,  p.  375,  belowl, 

*  Foundations,  Chap.  XIV  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  66,  below). 

3  Way  of  perfection,  Chap.  XXII  (Vol.  II,  p.  94,  below). 

4 Foundations,  Chap.  XIX  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  94,  below). 

6 Foundations,  Chap.  XXVIII  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  164,  below). 

*Life9  Chap  XXXVIII  (Vol.  I,  p.  267,  below). 

''Life,  Chap.  XIII  (Vol.  I,  p.    82,  below). 

8  Way  of  perfection,  Chap.  XX  (Vol.  II,  p.  88,  below). 

9  Life,  Chap.  XIII  (Vol.  I,  p.  80,  below). 

10  Ibid  Chap.  XXXVI  (Vol.  II,  p.  156,  below). 


TRANSLATOR'S   PREFACE  xvii 

or  the  animadversions  in  the  Life  upon  the  niceties  of  worldly 
etiquette : 

— the  title  "Illustrious "  has  to  be  given  to  a  man  who  formerly 
was  not  even  described  as  "Magnificent".1 

The  style  here  is  so  sedate  that  one  has  to  pause  for  quite  a  long 
time  before  pressing  the  button  lest  the  photograph  should  fail 
to  catch  the  twinkle  in  the  eye. 

Then  there  are  the  thousand  touches  which  reveal  the  tempera- 
mentally great  writer  who  never  became,  or  wanted  to  become, 
a  professional  one — the  genius  born,  not  made.  This  trait  in 
herself  St.  Teresa  never  allows  us  to  forget — which  is  just  as  well 
for  the  translator  who  might  otherwise  conventionalize  her. 
She  is  "stupid",  "incompetent"  and  always  busy  with  really 
"important"  things  like  her  spinning-wheel.  She  has  "no  learn- 
ing", suffers  from  "noises"  in  the  head,  a  bad  memory,  and  a 
"rough"  and  "heavy"  style.  It  is  useless  for  her  to  write  any- 
thing on  mystical  theology,  for — "I  am  unable  to  use  the  proper 
terms".  She  cannot  prevent  herself  from  digressing  if  she  feels 
like  it:  otherwise,  her  writing  "worries"  her.2  "How  I  do  let 
myself  wander!"  begins  Chapter  XXIII  of  the  Way  of  per- 
fection.3  As  for  the  dates  she  quotes — "you  must  always  under- 
stand (them)  to  be  approximate — they  are  of  no  great 
importance."4  And  she  scribbles  at  breakneck  speed  and  with 
tremendous  intensity,  never  revising  her  work — nor  even  re- 
reading it  to  see  what  she  has  said  last.6  All  the  time  the  translator 
has  to  remember  that  he  is  dealing  with  this  unique  kind  of 
woman — it  would  be  nothing  short  of  a  tragedy  if  he  turned  her 
into  a  writer  of  text-books. 

2.  The  second  type  of  difficulty  which  should  be  referred  to 
will  perhaps  be  of  greater  interest  to  the  student  than  to  the 
general  reader.  In  her  "rough  style",  she  says  comfortingly  at 
the  end  of  Chapter  XVI  of  the  Way  of  perfection,  her  argument 
will  be  better  understood  "than  in  other  books  which  put  it  more 
elegantly."6  That  no  doubt  was  true,  and  may  still  be  true, 
so  far  as  the  general  trend  of  the  argument  is  concerned, — and 
one  has  constantly  to  be  on  one's  guard,  when  there  is  some 
"elegant"  word  that  exactly  expresses  her  meaning,  against 

*Life,  Chap.  XXXVII  (VoL  I,  p.  266,  below). 

3  Such  references  as  these  are  to  be  found  everywhere.    See,  for  example,  VoL 

I,  p.  86,  below.  Vol.  II,  pp.  68,  234,  291,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  xxii,  xxiii. 

3  In  the  Escorial  manuscript.   See  VoL  II,  p.  97  n.  6,  below. 

*  Foundations,  Chap.  XXV  (VoL  III,  p.  132,  below). 

5  Way  of  perfection,  Chap.  XIX  (VoL  II,  p.  76,  below). 

8  VoL  II,  p.  68,  below. 


xviii  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

using  it — but  it  certainly  does  not  apply  to  the  exact  sense  of 
particular  passages.  Even  Spaniards  familiar  with  her  books 
are  continually  baffled  when  asked  the  precise  meaning  of  phrases 
which  at  first  sight  may  seem  perfectly  simple.  Vivid,  disjointed, 
elliptical,  paradoxical  and  gaily  ungrammatical,  the  nun  of 
Avila  continually  confounds  the  successors  of  those  "learned  men" 
to  whom  in  her  life  she  turned  so  often  for  enlightenment.  One  often 
has  frankly  to  guess  at  her  exact  meaning,  and  half  a  dozen  people 
may  make  half  a  dozen  different  guesses,  none  of  which  anybody 
can  pick  out  as  definitely  correct. 

To  illustrate  these  characteristics  of  her  style,  I  have,  for  the 
sake  of  brevity,  selected  examples  in  which  her  meaning  is^fairly 
evident.  When  to  the  difficulty  of  rendering  her  words  without 
paraphrasing  them  is  added  that  of  deciding  between  several 
possible  meanings  it  can  be  imagined  how  much  the  task  is 
magnified. 

In  the  course  of  a  discussion  on  melancholy  in  nuns,  in  the 
seventh  chapter  of  the  Foundations,  St.  Teresa  observes  that  lack 
of  discipline  is  often  more  to  blame  than  temperament: 

Digo  en  algunas,  porque  he  visto,  que  cuando  hay  a  quien 
temer,  se  van  a  la  mano  y  pueden. 

(Lit:  I  mean  in  some,  for  I  have  seen  that,  when  there  is 
whom  to  fear,  they  become  docile  and  can.) 

This,  in  English,  has  to  be  expanded  somewhat  as  follows: 

I  know  it  is  so  in  some;  for,  when  they  have  been  brought 
before  a  person  they  are  afraid  of,  I  have  seen  them  become 
docile,  so  I  know  that  they  can.1 

Again,  in  the  Interior  Castle  (VI,  viii),  she  has  been  considering 
how  a  person  can  be  sure  whether  some  vision  is  of  Christ  or 
of  a  saint: 

Aun  ya  el  Senor,  cuando  habla,  mas  facil  parece;  mas  el 
santo  que  no  habla,  sino  que  parece  le  pone  el  Senor  alii 
por  ayuda  de  aquel  alma  y  por  companfa,  es  mas  de 
maravilla. 

(Lit:  Even  now  the  Lord,  when  He  speaks,  (it)  seems  easier; 
but  the  saint  who  speaks  not,  but  seems  to  have  been  placed 
there  by  the  Lord  for  aid  to  that  soul  and  for  company, 
is  more  remarkable.) 

1  Vol.  Ill,  p.  39,  below. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  .  xix 

Which  means: 

When  it  is  the  Lord,  and  He  speaks,  it  is  natural  that  He 
should  be  easily  recognized;  but  even  when  it  is  a  saint,  and 
no  words  are  spoken,  the  soul  is  able  to  feel  that  the  Lord  is 
sending  him  to  be  a  help  and  a  companion  to  it;  and  this  is 
(still)  more  remarkable.1 

Then  there  are  shorter  phrases,  couched  in  a  staccato,  almost 
telegraphic  style,  hard  enough  to  translate  without  a  weakening 
of  their  generally  considerable  force — 

Con  esto,  mal  dormir,  todo  trabajo,  todo  cruz! 
(Lit:  With  this,  bad  sleep,  all  trial,  all  cross!) 

And  then,  the  scant  sleep  they  get :  nothing  but  trials,  nothing 
but  crosses!2 — 

but  quite  devastating  when  the  dipt  phraseology  makes  one 
doubtful  of  the  meaning.  And  there  are  words  which  St.  Teresa 
uses  in  a  sense  entirely  her  own,  and  conjunctions  which  do  not 
in  the  least  mean  whit  they  say — e.g.  "and"  for  "but"  and 
vice  versa,  not  to  mention  the  conjunction  que,  which  can  stand  for 
almost  any  other. 

One  has  also  to  watch  for,  and  preserve,  *  the  Saint's  col- 
loquialisms. Even  in  talking  with  God,  she  tells  us,  she  has 
a  "silly  way" 

in  which  I  often  speak  to  Him  without  meaning  what  I  am 
saying;  for  it  is  love  that  speaks,  and  my  soul  is  so  far  trans- 
ported that  I  take  no  notice  of  the  distance  that  separates  it 
from  God.3 

How  much  more  unconventional,  then,  is  she  likely  to  be  with  her 
readers !  Not  only  in  her  modes  of  address,  but  in  the  introduction 
of  everyday,  semi-proverbial  phrases,  some  of  which  are  no 
longer  in  use  in  Spain  and  might  be  unintelligible  did  she  not 
thoughtfully  accompany  them  with  an  "as  one  might  put  it"  or 
"as  they  say".  It  would  not  be  hard  to  turn  into  current  English 
slang  such  phrases  as : 

They  see  that  these  things  are  considered,  as  one  might  say, 
"all  right".4 

1  Vol.  II,  p.  312,  below. 

*I4fc  Chap.  XIII  (Vol.  I,  p.  82,  below). 

9  Life,  Chap.  XXXIV  (Vol.  I,  pp.  235-6,  bdow), 

*£#*,  Chap.  VII  (Vol.  I,  p.  39,  below}. 


xx  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

(I  am)  so  peevish  and  ill-tempered  that  I  seem  to  want  to 
snap  everyone  up.1 

We  had  not  so  much  as  a  scrap  of  brushwood  to  broil  a 
sardine  on.2 

So  with  her  homely  and  vivid  metaphors :  the  Christian  making 
progress  "at  a  hen's  pace"  or  even  "like  hens  with  their  feet 
tied";  his  adversary  the  devil  "clapping  his  hands  to  his  head" 
in  despair  of  ever  vanquishing  him;  love  finding  an  outlet  and 
not  being  "allowed  to  boil  right  over  like  a  pot  to  which  fuel 
has  been  applied  indiscriminately";3  worldly  aids  to  devotion 
being  of  no  more  use  to  lean  upon  than  "dry  rosemary  twigs" 
which  break  at  the  slightest  pressure.4  All  these — and  there  are 
hundreds  of  them  enlivening  her  narratives  and  illumining 
her  expositions — can  be  so  easily  spoiled  in  translation. 

Another  stumbling  block  is  repetition,  a  practice  to  which 
St.  Teresa  was  greatly  addicted.  Some  of  her  repetitions  of  words 
are  merely  careless  and  clumsy — as  in  her  constant  use  of  the 
word  "great"6 — and  these  I  have  been  content  to  indicate 
rather  than  reproduce  every  time  they  occur.  When  she  repeats 
phrases  it  is  generally  for  emphasis — 

Oh,  what  terrible  harm,  what  terrible  harm  is  wrought  .  .  . 
when  the  religious  life  is  not  properly  observed ! 6 

and,  except  occasionally  where  our  language  necessitates  another 
formula  for  the  conveying  of  the  effect,  her  phraseology  can 
as  a  rule  be  reproduced  as  it  stands.  But  often  the  same  word 
is  repeated  in  a  different  sense,  sometimes  so  pointedly  that  it 
produces  an  obvious  play  upon  the  word's  two  or  more  mean- 
ings. Some  of  these  usages  cannot  be  conveyed  in  English; 
others  are  best  translated  freely  with  the  point  explained  more 
fully  in  a  footnote.  But  whenever  possible  I  have  rendered  this 
characteristic  Teresan  trait  quite  literally:  if  it  gives  the  reader 
a  slight  shock,  that  is  probably  what  she  often  intended: 

How  much  more  will  anyone  fear  this  to  whom  He  has  thus 
revealed  Himself,  and  given  such  a  consciousness  of  His 
presence  as  will  produce  unconsciousness!7 

*Life,  Chap.  XXX  (Vol.  I,  p    199,  below). 

*  Foundations,  Chap.  XV  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  74,  below). 

*Lifi,  Chaps.  XIII,  XXXVII,  XXVI,  XXIX  (Vol.  I,  pp.  75-6,  284,  166, 

191,  below). 

4 Relations,  III  (Vol.  I,  p.  316,  below). 
8  See,  for  a  typical  example,  Life,  Chap.  XXXVIII  (Vol.  I,  p.  270,  below). 

•  life,  Chap.  VII  (Vol.  I,  p.  39,  below).  ' 
7  Interior  Castle,  VI,  ix  (Vol.  II,  p  316,  below). 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  xxi 

If  I  .  .  .  used  my  unhappiness  in  order  to  serve  God,  it 
would  serve  me  as  a  kind  of  purgatory.1 

But  .  .  .  though  my  will  is  not  yet  free  from  self-interest, 
I  give  it  to  Thee  freely.  For  I  have  proved,  by  long  experience, 
how  much  I  gain  by  leaving  it  freely  in  Thy  hands.2 

Alas  that  one  cannot  do  more  to  give  the  English  reader 
the  unforgettable  effect  of  intimacy  with  this  woman  of  the 
sixteenth  century  still  living  and  breathing  in  the  twentieth 
as  she  writes  in  her  own  language!  The  fine  shades  of  meaning 
which  she  creates  with  her  untranslatable  idioms,  her  love  for 
inventing  all  kinds  of  diminutives,  her  characteristic  metatheses 
and  other  forms  of  popular  misspelling,  her  curious  serni- 
phonetic  transliterations  of  Latin  texts,  her  long,  shambling, 
breathless  sentences,  as  common  as  her  short  sprightly  ones, 
which  for  reasons  of  clarity  one  cannot  avoid  splitting  up — these 
make  one  feel  that,  when  one  has  done  everything  possible,  one 
has  still  done  nothing.  All  I  can  say  is  that  I  have  done  my  best. 

Those  acquainted  with  the  Spanish  text  may  care  to  have 
a  few  notes  on  the  renderings  normally  adopted  for  characteristic 
words  and  phrases.  One  of  the  Saint's  most  frequent  exclamations, 
/  Vdlgame  Diosf,  which  can  express  any  emotion  from  playful 
exasperation  to  profound  distress,  is  as  a  rule  translated  literally,  as 
"God  help  me! "  Occasionally  where  the  context  will  not  suffice 
to  indicate  the  shade  of  meaning,  it  becomes  "Oh,  God!", 
"Dear  God!"  or  even  "Dear  me!"  The  polite  form  of  address 
Vuestra  Merced  is  translated  "Your  Honour"  (or  sometimes 
merely  "you")  when  applied  to  a  layman  and  "Your  Reverence" 
when  used  to  a  priest.  The  word  letrados  is  rendered  literally 
"learned  men",  though  the  type  of  learning  to  which  it  refers 
is  invariably  theological.  The  characteristic  and  rather  subtle 
uses  of  the  word  honra  ("honour",  "reputation",  "good  name") 
are 'dealt  with,  as  they  occur,  in  foot-notes.  Of  terms  used  in 
specifically  mystical  passages,  arrobamiento  is  normally  translated 
"rapture";  arrebatamiento,  "transport";  amortecimiento,  "swoon"; 
elevamiento  and  levantamiento,  "elevation";  embebecimiento,  "absorp- 
tion"; and  hablas,  "locutions"  (or,  rarely,  "voices").  Three 
words  which  St.  Teresa  by  no  means  always  distinguishes  from 
one  another  are  gustos,  contentos  and  regalos,  generally  translated, 
respectively,  "consolations,",  "sweetness"  (in  devotion)  and 
"favours",  gustos  being  more  substantial  than  the  evanescent 
contentos  and  often  contrasted  with  them.  The  verb  regalar  may 

1  Life,  Chap.  XXXVI  (Vol.  I,  p.  £252,  below). 

*  Way  of  perfection,  Chap.  XXXII  (Vol.  II,  p.  135,  below). 


xxii  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE 

run  through  the  gamut  "caress",  "pamper",  "indulge", 
"delight",  "gladden"  and  "cheer";  and  the  singular  sub- 
stantive regalo  varies  in  the  same  way.  Descanso  can  mean  not 
only  "rest"  but  something  very  much  like  "happiness",  as  also 
can  consuelo  ("comfort ") .  Espiritu  can  refer  to  a  person's  particular 
spiritual  condition  or  to  his  or  her  spirituality.  Remedio  is  more 
often  "help"  than  "remedy".  For  convenience'  sake,  St. 
Teresa's  usage  here  being  very  elastic,  I  have  called  all  religious 
houses  for  men  "monasteries"  or  "friaries"  and  those  for  women 
"convents".  To  the  word  "soul"  the  neuter  pronoun  is  applied 
unless  it  seems  to  be  equivalent  to  "person".  Where  the  Spanish 
gender  is  ambiguous,  "she"  is  used  only  if  St.  Teresa  appears 
to  have  a  woman  definitely  in  mind. 

Ill 

Some  idea  of  the  principles  which  have  guided  me  in  the 
planning  of  this  edition  will  be  implicit  in  what  has  already 
been  said.  I  have  aimed  at  extreme  Hteralness,  and  have  seldom 
sacrificed  this  to  smoothness  and  elegance  of  diction.  In  an 
attempt  to  present  the  text  in  the  best  and  fullest  form  I  have 
utilized  all  the  manuscripts  reproduced  by  P.  Silverio;  and 
particular  care,  as  will  be  seen,  has  been  devoted  to  the  Way  of 
perfection.  The  notes,  greatly  abridged  from  those  of  P.  Silverio, 
whose  discursiveness  is  not  limited  to  his  introductions,  have  been 
kept  down  to  a  minimum;1  the  index  of  persons2  and  places, 
at  the  end  of  the  third  volume,  will  be  found  to  supply  any 
apparent  gaps  in  the  historical  annotations,  while  the  subject- 
index  makes  cross-references  dealing  with  the  subject-matter 
unnecessary.  One  need  not  remind  avowed  Teresans,  but  it 
may  be  worth  while  pointing  out  to  the  general  reader,  that  the 
best  possible  commentary  on  many  of  St.  Teresa's  ascetic  and 
mystical  passages  can  be  found  by  using  a  subject-index  to  the 
works  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross.8  So  much  autobiographical 
material  is  found  in  the  Life  and  the  Foundations — and  indeed  in 
practically  all  the  works — that  no  biographical  introduction  has 
seemed  necessary;  a  brief  outline  of  the  main  events  in  St. 
Teresa's  career,  however,  supplemented  by  references  to  the 
works,  has  been  thought  worth  including. 

1  [All  the  footnotes  to  the  text  are  P.  Silverio's  except  where  they  are  enclosed  in 
square  brackets,  or  where  the  contrary  is  stated.  I  have  followed  P.  Silverio  in  not 
numbering  the  paragraphs  of  the  text,  as  both  he  and  I  thought  it  advisable  to  do  in 
the  Complete  Works  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross.} 

*  [English  forms  of  the  Spanish  names  are  used  only  for  names  of  Saints.] 
3  Such  a  subject-index  will  be  found  in  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  445-54  of  my  edition  of  th« 
Complete  Works. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  xxiii 

The  style  and  tone  adopted  in  the  translation  of  the  different 
works  varies  considerably,  just  as  in  the  works  of  St.  John  of 
the  Cross — even  more  so,  indeed,  than  there,  for  the  Exclamations 
are  much  farther  in  this  respect  from  the  Foundations  than  is  the 
Ascent  of  Mount  Carmel  from  the  Spiritual  Canticle.  But,  except  in 
the  Exclamations  and  in  parts  of  the  Interior  Castle  and  Conceptions, 
St.  Teresa's  style  is  more  pedestrian  and  colloquial  than  that  of  St. 
John  of  the  Cross,  and  this  I  have  indicated  by  the  use  of  more 
"modern"  language,  without,  I  hope,  entirely  destroying  the 
flavour  of  a  past  age.  The  same  remark,  mutatis  mutandis,  applies 
to  the  Poems. 

St.  Teresa's  quotations  from  the  Bible  are, often  inexact:  my 
rule  has  been  to  give  her  own  words,  approximating  them  as 
nearly  as  possible  to  the  text  of  the  Douai  Version1  but  never 
allowing  her  to  say  in  English  anything  that  she  does  not  say  in 
Spanish.  Her  mind  was  so  completely  immersed  in  Biblical 
phraseology2  that  it  is  sometimes  hard  to  tell  if  she  is  consciously 
quoting  at  all.  Where  a  Scriptural  reference  is  given  in  a  footnote 
it  is  to  be  understood  that  I  think  her  to  be  making  a  definite 
quotation;  and  in  the  appropriate  index  it  is  these  references 
only  that  will  be  found. 

It  would  have  been  attractive  to  have  included  a  very  large 
proportion  of  the  numerous-  documents  printed  by  P.  Silverio 
in  his  nine  volumes,  which  throw  so  many  sidelights  on  St. 
Teresa's  life  and  times.  But  if  this  translation,  like  its  predecessor, 
was  to  be  compressed  into  three  volumes  there  was  only  a  very 
little  space  to  spare,  even  when  the  introductions  to  the  individual 
works  were  cut  down,  as  they  have  been,  to  a  minimum.  I  have 
therefore  confined  myself  to  translating  a  few  outstanding  docu- 
ments, making  them  as  representative  as  possible.  In  order  that 
the  pages  at  my  a  ^posal  for  this  purpose  should  be  used  to  the 
best  advantage,  I  aave  occasionally  omitted  irrelevant  passages 
or  condensed  their  verboseness  of  expression,  without,  however 
(I  hope),  impairing  their  spirit. 

IV 

Chief  among  my  acknowledgments  are  those  to  P.  Silverio  de 
Santa  Teresa,  the  excellence  of  whose  work  I  have  had  occasion 
to  test  again  and  again,  and  to  the  Benedictines  of  Stanbrook, 
who,  holding  exclusive  copyright  for  the  English  translation  of 
his  edition,  have  most  generously  permitted  me  to  make  full  use 

1  All  footnote  references  are  to  this  version.  Where  the  numbering  of  chapters 
or  verses  in  the  Authorized  Version  differs  from  this,  as  in  the  Psalms,  the  variation 
has  been  shown  in  square  brackets. 

1  Cf.  her  reference  to  the  Bible  in  Ltfi>  Chap.  XXV  (Vol.  I,  p  161,  below). 


AN  OUTLINE  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  ST.  TERESA 

(Abbreviations:  F= Foundations;  LC.= Interior  Castle;  *L—Life\ 
L'L=Letters;  R= Relations,  Roman  numerals  after  F,  I.C.,  L, 
R  refer  to  chapters;  Arabic  numerals  after  LL,  to  the  numbers 
of  the  Letters.  The  numerals  in  brackets  after  the  name£  of  the 
foundations  record  their  chronological  sequence.) 

I515  (March  28).   Birth  of  Teresa  de  (Cepeda  y)  Ahumada  at 
Avila. 

1528.  Teresa  loses  her  mother. 

c.   1531.  Enters  Augustinian  Convent  of  St.  Mary  of  Grace, 
Avila,  as  a  boarder.  Stays  there  for  eighteen  months  (L  III) . 

1536  (November  2).  Enters  Carmelite  Convent  of  the  Incarnation, 
Avila,  as  a  novice  (Cf.  p.  20,  n.2.,  below.    "It  is  forty  years 
since  this  nun  took  the  habit,"  wrote  St.  Teresa  in  1576: 
R  IV,  p.  319,  below). 

1537  (November  3).  Professed  at  Convent  of  the  Incarnation. 

1538  (Autumn:  "before  two  years  had  passed":  L  V).   Health 
gives  way.    Goes  ("when  the  winter  began")  to  stay  with 
her  half-sister,  Dona  Maria  de  Cepeda  de  Banientos,   at 
the  village  of  Castellanos  de  la  Canada.  On  the  way  there, 
stays  at  Hortigosa  with  her  uncle,  Don  Pedro  de  Cepeda, 
who  gives  her  a  copy  of  Osuna's  Third  Spiritual  Alphabet. 

1539  (April-July),  Undergoes  treatment  atBecedas. 

1539  (August  15).  Attack  of  catalepsy,  which  leaves  her  helpless 
"for  more  than  eight  months  "  (L  VI) . 

1540  (about  Easter).   Returns  to  Incarnation.  An  invalid  till 
late  in   1541:   "This   (illness)  I  suffered  for  three  years" 
(L  V).   The  effects  of  the  paralysis  remain  till  the  summer 
of  1542  (L  VI)  and  recur  intermittently  (L  VII)  till  about 

1554- 

1543  (December  24).  Death  of  her  father,  Don  Alonso  Sanchez  de 
Cepeda. 

c.  1555-6-  Begins  to  think  she  is  "sometimes  being  addressed  by 
interior  voices  and  to  see  certain  visions  and  experience 
revelations"  (R  IV). 


xxviii  THE  LIFE  OF  ST.  TERESA 

c.  1556-7.  Final  "conversion"  (after  "nearly  twenty  years  on 
that  stormy  sea  " :  L  VIII :  p.  48,  below) .  Cf.  pp.  2 1,  56  n.  i . 
First  contact  with  the  Society  of  Jesus  ("after  almost  twenty 
years'  experience  of  prayer":  L  XXIII). 

(1557.  Visit  of  St-  Francis  Borgia  to  Avila  (L  XXIV).) 

1558.  Experiences  her  first  rapture   (L  XXIV)   and  perhaps 
(L  XXVIII)  an  imaginary  vision  of  Christ  (usually  dated 
January  25  or  June  29-30,  1558.  But  a  likelier  date  is  1560: 
see  pp.  1 68,  179,  187,  189,  below). 

Discussions  begin  about  the  foundation  in  Avila  of  a  convent 
for  Discalced  nuns  (R  IV). 

1559.  P.  Alvarez  becomes  her  confessor.  Transverberation  of  her 
heart  (L  XXIX). 

1560.  Makes  a  vow  of  greater  perfection. 

1561.  P.  Caspar  de  Salazar  comes  to  Avila  (April). 

House  for  the  first  convent  of  the  Reform  bought  in  Avila 
(August). 

1562-7.  At  St.  Joseph's,  Avila  ("The  most  restful  years  of  my 
life":  FI). 

1562 

January-July.  Stays  with  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Cerda  at  Toledo. 
June.  Finishes  the  first  draft  of  the  Life. 

July.  Brief  (dated  February)  authorizing  the  foundation  of  St. 
Joseph's  received  from  Rome  on  the  night  of  her  return  to 
Avila.  The  Bishop  is  persuaded  by  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara  to 
sanction  the  foundation. 

August  24.  Foundation  of  Convent  of  St.  Joseph,  Avila  (1) 
August  (to  February  1563).  "Commotion"  in  Avila  (L  XXXVI). 

(After  August).  Is  commanded  to  write  an  amplified  account  of 
her  life. 

1563 

(About  March).  Goes  to  live  at  St.  Joseph's,  Avila. 

July  3.  Takes  some  further  step  (its  exact  nature  not  known) 
towards  herself  embracing  the  Reform. 

August  22.  Is  granted  a  patent  to  transfer,  with  three  companions, 
from  the  Incarnation  to  St.  Joseph's. 


THE  LIFE  OF  ST.   TERESA  xxis 

1564 

August  ai.  The  Nuncio  confirms  the  above-mentioned  patent. 

1565 

(?  December).  Greater  part  of  the  second  and  final  version  oi 
the  Life  written. 

Completes  the  Life  and  sends  it,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  to 
P.  Garcia  de  Toledo  (LL  3). 
At  about  this  time,  begins  the  Way  of  perfection. 

1566 

(About  August).  Is  visited  by  Fray  Alonso  Maldonado. 

1567 

February1.  Visit  to  Castile  of  the  Carmelite  General,  P.  Rubeo 
(Rossi). 

April.  The  General  arrives  (April  n)  at  Avila  and  (April  27) 
visits  St.  Teresa,  authorizing  her  to  found  further  convents 
of  the  Reform,  and  later  (August  14,  from  Barcelona)  two 
monasteries. 

August  15.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Medina  del  Campo  (2). 

September-November.  Remains  at  Medina  till  early  November, 
During  her  stay  there  (?  early  in  September)  discusses  -with 
Antonio  de  Jesiis  and  St.  John  of  the  Cross  the  foundation 
of  the  first  monastery  of  the  Reform  (F  III). 
In  November,  goes  to  Madrid  and  stays  for  a  fortnight  with 
Dona  Leonor  de  Mascarenas.  Thence  goes  to  Alcala  de 
Henares,  consults  P.  Banez  and  stays  till  February  1568.  l 

1568 

February.  Visits  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Cerda  at  Toledo. 

March  (late  in).  Leaves  for  Malagon. 

April  n.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Malagon  (3) 

1  I.e.,  about  six  months  after  Maldonado's  visit:  cf.  final  words  of  F  I  (Vol.  Ill, 
p,  4,  below). 


xxx  THE  LIFE  OF  ST.  TERESA 

May  19.  Leaves  Malagon  for  Avila.  On  the  way,  stays  at 
Toledo  in  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Cerda's  house,  during  her 
absence :  (LL  6) .  Visits  the  Marchioness  of  Villena  at 
Escalona  (LL  6). 

June  2-30.  At  St.  Joseph's,  Avila.  Rafael  Mejia  offers  her  a 
house  at  Duruelo  for  use  as  a  monastery.  She  leaves  for 
Medina  and  Valladolid,  calling  at  Duruelo  on  the  way. 

August  10*  Arrives  at  Valladolid.  St.  John  of  the  Gross  has 
accompanied  her  from  Medina  to  Valladolid  and  stays 
there  till  September  30  (F  XIII;  LL  10). 

August  15.   Foundation  of  Convent  at  Valladolid  (4). 

October.  The  Valladolid  nuns  fall  ill  and  go  to  stay  with  Dona 
Maria  de  Mendoza,  who  takes  over  their  house  and  gives 
them  a  new  one. 

(November  28.  First  Mass  said  at  the  Discalced  monastery, 
Duruelo.) 

1569 

February  3.  The  Valladolid  nuns  enter  their  new  house. 

February  21.  Leaves  Valladolid  for  Medina,  Avila,  Madrid  and 
Toledo,  revisiting  Duruelo  on  the  way  (F  XIV;  cf.  LL  13- 

15)- 

March  24.  Arrives  at  Toledo  (LL  19).  (The  King  sends  for  her, 
believing  her  to  be  still  in  Madrid,  after  she  has  left  for 
Toledo.) 

May  14.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Toledo  (5). 

May  28.  Receives  a  letter  from  the  Princess  of  fiboli  about  a 
foundation  at  Pastrana. 

May  30.  Leaves  Toledo.  In  Madrid,  stays  for  a  week  at  a 
Franciscan  convent  with  Dona  Leonor  de  Mascarenas. 
Refuses  to  found  a  convent  in  Madrid  (LL  294) . 

July  9.  •  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Pastrana  (6).  (A  monastery 
founded  there  on  July  13.) 

July  21.  Leaves  for  Toledo  again.   Stays  there  till  August  1570. 

NOTE. — The  date  of  the  Exclamations  of  the  Soul  to  God  is  probably 
1569.  Cf.  Vol.  II,  pp.  401,  below. 


THE  LIFE  OF  ST.  TERESA  xxxi 


1570 

(PJuly).  Visits  Pastrana  and  (August-October)  Avila.  On 
October  31  arrives  at  Salamanca. 

November  i.    Foundation  of  Convent  at  Salamanca  (7). 

1571 

January  25.   Foundation  of  Convent  at  Alba  de  Tormes  (8). 

Mid-February.  Leaves  Alba.  Goes  to  stay  for  some  days  with 
the  Count  and  Countess  of  Monterrey.  On  March  29,  is 
at  Salamanca  (LL  25) ;  in  May,  by  order  of  the  Provincial 
of  the  Observance,  P.  Alonso  Gonzalez,  at  St.  Joseph's;  in 
June,  at  Medina  del  Campo;  in  mid-July,  at  Avila. 

August-October.  Prioress  at  Medina  (LL  27). 
October  6.  Goes  from  Medina  to  Avila. 

October  15  (to  October  1574).  Prioress  of  Convent  of  the  Incar- 
nation, Avila  (LL  2gff.). 

1572 

(Between  May  and  September) .  St.  John  of  the  Cross  becomes 
confessor  to  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila. 

1573 

June  1 1 .  Earliest  extant  letter  (LL  45)  written  by  St.  Teresa  to 
Philip  IL 

August.  Visits  the  Salamanca  Convent  for  the  transference  of  the 
community  there  in  September. 

August  24.  Begins  to  write  the  Foundations  (at  Salamanca:  F  VII). 
Writes  about  nine  chapters:  then  stops  on  account  of 
anumerous  occupations". 

1574 

January.  Leaves  Salamanca.  Spends  some  time  at  Alba  de 
Tonnes,  staying  for  two  days  in  the  house  of  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Alba.  (I.C.,  VI,  iv:  Vol.  II,  p.  289,  below). 
Goes  on  to  Medina  and  Avila. 


xxxii  THE  LIFE  OF   ST.  TERESA 

March.    Travels  to  Segovia. 

March  19.   Foundation  of  Convent  at  Segovia  (9). 

Holy  Week :  April.  Transfers  Pastrana  nuns  to  Segovia  (F  XVII) . 
Remains  there  till  September  30  (F  XXI;  LL  62). 

October  6  (about).  Returns  to  St.  Joseph's,  Avila,  as  Prioress. 
December  (to  January  1575).    Visits  Valladolid  (LL  66-70). 

1575 

February.  Travels  from  Avila,  via  Toledo,  Malag6n  and  Almod6- 
var,  to  Beas. 

February  24.    Foundation  of  Convent  at  Beas  (10). 

March  10.    Agreement  for  the   Caravaca   Convent  signed    (F 

XXVII). 

Before  May  11  (LL  71).  First  meeting  with  Gracian  (F  XXIV, 
R  XXXIX).  Makes  vow  of  obedience  to  Gracian  (R  XL, 
XLI). 

May  18-26.  Journey  to  Seville  (Leaves,  May  18;  at  Ecija,  May 
23:  R  XL;  arrives  at  Seville,  May  26:  F  XXIV). 

May  29.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Seville  (11). 

June  9.  New  licence  for  the  Caravaca  convent  granted  by  Philip 
II  (F  XXVII). 

(May-June.  Chapter-General  of  the  Order,  held  at  Piacenza, 
adopts  harsh  measures  towards  the  Discalced  Reform.) 

July  19.  Writes  from  Seville  to  Philip  II  (LL  77)  on  behalf  of 
the  plan  for  dividing  the  Order  and  asking  that  P.  Gracian 
be  made  Provincial  of  the  Discalced. 

August.  Arrival  of  her  brothers  Lorenzo  and  Pedro  from  Spanish 
America  (F  XXV,  R  XL VI,  LL  87,  P.  Silverio,  IX,  246.) 

(Shortly  before  Christmas).  Receives  a  written  order  from  the 
General  to  leave  Andalusia  and  to  go  to  reside  in  a  Gastilian 
convent.  P.  Gracian  authorizes  her  to  stay  at  Seville  till  the 
summer  (LL  87,  91). 

1576 

(From  June  1576  to  June  1580  St.  Teresa  is  mainly  at  Toledo 
and  Avila.  Strife  within  the  Order  holds  up  the  founda- 
tions*) 


THE  LIFE   OF   ST,   TERESA  xxxiii 

January  i.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Caravaca  (12)  during  her 
stay  in  Seville  (LL  92). 

(March.  P.  Jeronimo  Tostado  arrives  in  Spain  armed  with 
powers  from  P.  Rubeo  to  suppress  certain  Discalced  founda- 
tions and  to  take  other  measures  against  the  Reform.) 

April  5.   Agreement  for  the  new  house  at  Seville  signed. 

(May  12.  Provincial  Chapter  of  the  Observance,  held  at  La 
Moraleja,  takes  stern  measures  against  the  Reform.) 

May  28.  Ceremony  of  the  inauguration  of  the  new  house  at 
Seville. 

June  4.  Leaves  Seville  for  Toledo,  via  Almodovar  del  Campo 
and  Malagon.  Arrives  at  Malagon  on  June  1 1  (LL  95)  and 
stays  for  at  least  a  week  (LL  96) .  Is  in  Toledo  before  June 
30  (LL  97). 

(August  8.  P.  Gracian  meets  the  Superiors  of  the  Reform  at 
Almodovar:  they  refuse  to  accept  the  decisions  of  the 
Moraleja  Chapter.) 

June-November.    Continues  Foundations. 

November  14.  Completes  Chapter  XJCVII  of  Foundations  (See 
penultimate  paragraph  of  that  chapter) . 

1577 

June  2.   Begins  Interior  Castle. 

(June  1 8.   Death  of  the  Nuncio  Ormaneto.) 

July.  Goes  from  Toledo  to  Avila  to  arrange  for  the  transference 
of  St.  Joseph's  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Ordinary  to  that 
of  the  Carmelite  Order.  Interruption  of  her  work  on  Interior 
Castle  (I.C.  V,  iv). 

(August  30,   Arrival  in  Spain  of  the  new  Nuncio,  Sega.) 

September  18.  Writes  to  Philip  II  on  behalf  of  P.  Gracian  and 
of  the  Reform  (LL  195). 

October.  Violent  scenes  at  the  election  of  a  Prioress  at  the 
Incarnation,  Avila.  Nuns  voting  for  St.  Teresa  are  excom- 
municated. Ana  de  Toledo  chosen  (LL  197-8,  cf.  205-7). 


xxxiv  THE   LIFE   OF  ST.   TERESA 

(November  5.  Royal  Council  opposes  the  policy  of  Tostado,  who 
leaves  for  Rome.) 

November  29.  Finishes  Interior  Castle. 

(December  3.  St.  John  of  the  Gross  and  a  companion  are  carried 
off  and  imprisoned,  at  Toledo  and  La  Moraleja  respectively, 
by  the  friars  of  the  Observance  (LL  204,  219,  246-7). 

December  4.1  St.  Teresa  complains  of  this  act  to  Philip  II 
(LL  204). 

December  24.    Falls  and  breaks  her  left  arm. 

1578 

(Persecution  of  the  Reform  continues  throughout  this  year: 
LL  237  ff.  St.  Teresa  is  in  Avila). 

(September  4.  Death  of  P.  Rubeo  at  Rome:  LL  253). 

(October  9.  Chapter-General  of  the  Discalced  held  at 
Almodovar.) 

(October  16.  Sega  puts  the  Discalced  under  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  Observance.) 

1579 

(April  i.  Discalced  removed  from  jurisdiction  of  the  Obser- 
vance :  P.  Angel  de  Salazar  becomes  their  Superior.) 

(May.*  PP.  Juan  de  Jesiis  (Roca)  and  Diego  de  la  Trinidad 
leave  for  Rome,  to  attempt  to  effect  the  division  of  the 
Order:  LL  273,  275.)  P.  Salazar  authorizes  St.  Teresa  to 
resume  the  visitation  of  her  convents. 

June  25.  Leaves  Avila,  with  B.  Ana  de  San  Bartolome,  for 
Medina  (stays  3-4  days),  Valladolid  (July  3-30),  Salamanca 
(about  2^  months)  and  Alba  (a  week). 

July.  Sends  the  Way  of  perfection  to  the  Archbishop  of  fivora 
(LL  285). 

November  (early).    Returns  to  Avila, 

November.  Goes  to  Toledo  (mid-November:  LL  291)  and 
Malagon;  arrives  at  Malagon,  November  25;  is  there  when 
(December  8)  the  community  moves  into  its  new  house 
(LL  295).  Stays  till  February  1580. 

1  Some  authorities  believe  that,  between  December  u  and  17  of  this  year,  St. 
Teresa  had  an  interview  with  Philip  II  at  El  Escorial  (Gf.  P.  Silverio,  IX,  266). 


THE   LIFE   OF   ST.   TERESA  xxxv 


1580 

February  13.  Leaves  Malagon  for  Villamieva  de  la  Jara  (LL 
307-83  313)3  arriving  there  February  21,  after  making  stops 
at  Toledo  and  La  Roda. 

February  2 1 .  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Villanueva  de  la  Jara 
(13). 

March  20.   Leaves  Villanueva  de  la  Jara. 

March  26.  Arrives  at  Toledo.  On  March  31  (LL  314)  has  a 
paralytic  stroke.  Asks  the  Archbishop  of  Toledo  for  a  licence 
to  make  a  foundation  in  Madrid :  the  request  is  not  granted 
(LL  323). 

June  7.  Though  still  unwell,  leaves  for  Madrid  and  Segovia. 
Reaches  Segovia  on  June  15.  While  there,  learns  of  the  death 
(June  26)  of  her  brother  Lorenzo  (LL  325-63  342).  Goes 
(July  6)  from  Segovia  to  Avila,  to  settle  his  business  affairs 
(LL  328).  At  Segovia,  revises  the  Interior  Castle  in  collabora- 
tion with  P.  Gracian  and  P.  Yanguas.  (Vol.  II,  p.  194, 
below) . 

(June  22.  The  Discalced  Reform  is  recognized  as  a  separate 
province  by  a  Bull  of  Gregory  XIII.) 

August  (early).  Goes  on  from  Avila  to  Medina  del  Campo  and 
(August  8)  Valladolid  where  she  is  to  see  the  Bishop  about 
the  projected  foundation  in  his  diocese.  At  Valladolid  has 
a  recurrence  of  the  Toledo  complaint  and  becomes  danger- 
ously ill  (LL  336). 

December  28.  Leaves  Valladolid  for  Palencia  (LL  344). 

December  29.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Palencia  (14)  (LL 
344). 

1581 

(March  3.  Separation  of  Calced  and  Discalced  Carmelites 
becomes  operative  at  Chapter  of  Alcala  de  Henares:  cf. 
LL  350-4.  P.  Gracian  appointed  Provincial  of  the  Discalced.) 

June  2.  Arrives  at  Soria,  after  spending  the  night  of  May  31 
at  Burgo  de  Osma  (F  XXX). 

(June  i.   The  Palencia  community  moves  to  its  new  house.) 


xxxvi  THE  LIFE   OF  ST.   TERESA 

June  14.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Sona  (15).  (Cf.  F  XXX, 
Vol.  Ill,  p.  1  80,  n.  3,  below.) 

August  1  6.  Leaves  for  St.  Joseph's,  Avila,  via  Burgo  de  Osma, 
Segovia  (August  23-30:  LL  376),  Villacastin  (September  4: 
LL  377). 

September  5.   Arrives  at  Avila  (LL  378). 
September  10.  Elected  Prioress  of  St.  Joseph's,  Avila. 


January  2.  Leaves  for  Burgos,  via  Medina  del  Gampo  (January 
4-9),  Valladolid  (staying  four  days  through  illness:  LL 
404)  and  Palencia  (arrives  January  16),  arriving  at  Burgos  on 
January  26. 

January  20.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Granada  (16)  in  St. 
Teresa's  absence. 

April  19.  Foundation  of  Convent  at  Burgos  (17). 

^ 

(July)  Completes  Foundations  (F  XXXI  was  being  written  at 
"the  end  of  June":  Vol.  Ill,  p.  191,  n.  2,  below). 

July  26.  Leaves  Burgos  for  Avila,  with  B.  Ana  de  San  Bartolome 
and  her  niece  Teresita.  Visits  Palencia  (in  August),  Valla- 
dolid (again  ill:  leaves  on  September  15),  Medina  del 
Campo  (September  16)  and  villages  near  Penaranda. 
Though  ill,  goes  to  Alba  de  Tonnes  at  the  command  of 
the  Provincial,  Fray  Antonio  de  Jesiis,  to  visit  the  Duchess 
of  Alba. 

September  20.  Arrives  at  Alba  de  Tonnes. 
October  4.  Dies  at  Alba  de  Tormes. 
1614:  April  24.  Beatified  by  Paul  V. 

1617.  Spanish  Cortes  votes  her  patroness  of  Spain.  The  vote  not 
confirmed. 

1622:  March  12,  Canonized  by  Gregory  XV  with  SS.  Isidro, 
Ignatius  of  Loyola  and  Francis  Xavier. 

1726.  Benedict  XIII  institutes  the  Feast  of  the  Transverberation 
of  her  Heart. 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  WORKS  OF 
ST.  TERESA 

Nearly  four  centuries  have  passed  since  St.  Teresa  began  to 
write,  and,  both  in  her  own  country  and  abroad,  her  fame  is 
still  widespread  and  still  growing.  Her  purely  human  qualities 
and  gifts,  the  saintliness  of  her  life  by  which  they  were  illumined 
and  overshadowed,  the  naturalness  and  candour  of  her  manner 
and  style — these  are  some  of  the  reasons  why  her  name  is  not 
only  graven  upon  the  enduring  marble  of  history  but  taken 
on  the  lips  of  generation  after  generation  with  reverence  and 
love. 

She  is  a  mystic — and  more  than  a  mystic.  Her  works,  it  is  true, 
are  well  known  in  the  cloister  and  have  served  as  nourishment 
to  many  who  are  far  advanced  on  the  Way  of  Perfection,  and  who, 
without  her  aid,  would  still  be  beginners  in  the  life  of  prayer. 
Yet  they  have  also  entered  the  homes  of  millions  living  in  the 
world  and  have  brought  consolation,  assurance,  hope  and  strength 
to  souls  who,  in  the  technical  sense,  know  nothing  of  the  life  of 
contemplation.  Devoting  herself,  as  she  did,  with  the  most 
wonderful  persistence  and  tenacity,  to  the  sublimest  task  given 
to  man — the  attempt  to  guide  others  toward  perfection — she 
succeeded  so  well  in  that  task  that  she  is  respected  everywhere 
as  an  incredibly  gifted  teacher,  who  has  revealed,  more  perhaps 
than  any  who  came  before  her,  the  nature  and  extent  of  those 
gifts  which  the  Lord  has  laid  up  in  this  life  for  those  who  love 
Him.  In  past  ages,  of  course,  there  had  been  many  writers 
kindled  with  Divine  love  to  whom  He  had  manifested  His  in- 
effable secrets,  but  for  the  most  part  these  secrets  had  gone  down 
with  them  to  the  grave.  To  St.  Teresa  it  was  given  to  speak  to 
the  world,  in  her  diaphanous,  colloquial  language  and  her  simple, 
unaffected  style,  of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  enamoured 
soul,  of  the  interior  strife  and  the  continual  purgation  through 
which  such  a  soul  must  pass  in  its  ascent  of  Mount  Carmel  and 
of  the  wonders  which  await  it  on  the  mountain's  summit. 

So  she  leads  the  soul  from  the  most  rudimentary  stages  of  the 
Purgative  Way  to  the  very  heights  of  Union,  bringing  it  into  the 
innermost  mansion  of  the  Interior  Castle,  where,  undisturbed 
by  the  foes  that  rage  without,  it  can  have  fruition  of  union  with 
the  Lord  of  that  Castle  and  experience  a  foretaste  of  the  Beatific 
Vision  of  the  life  to  come.  But,  despite  the  loftiness  and  sub- 
limity of  these  themes,  she  is  able  to  develop  them  without  ever 

xxxvii 


xxxviii  GENERAL   INTRODUCTION 

losing  the  most  attractive  of  her  qualities  as  a  writer — simplicity. 
Continually  she  finds  ready  to  hand  apt  and  graphic  comparisons, 
intelligible  even  to  the  unlearned.  No  mystical  writer  before  her 
day,  from  the  pseudo-Dionysius  to  Ruysbroeck,  nor  any  who  has 
written  since,  has  described  such  high  matters  in  a  way  so  apt, 
so  natural  and  to  such  a  large  extent  within  the  reach  of  all.  The 
publication  of  her  treatises  inaugurated  for  the  mystics  an  epoch 
of  what  may  almost  be  termed  popularity.  Those  who  love  the 
pages  of  the  Gospels,  and  whose  aim  in  life  is  to  attain  the  Gospel 
ideal  of  Christian  perfection,  have  found  in  her  works  other  pages 
in  which,  without  any  great  effort  of  the  intellect,  they  may  learn 
much  concerning  the  way.  Her  practical  insistence  upon  the 
virtuous  life,  her  faithfulness  to  the  Evangelical  counsels  and  the 
soundness  of  her  doctrine  even  in  the  most  obscure  and  recondite 
details — all  these  will  commend  her  to  them.  Many,  indeed, 
are  the  fervent  lovers  of  Our  Lord  who  have  gone  to  the  school 
of  love  kept  by  the  Foundress  of  Avila. 

As  a  result,  her  works  are  read  and  re-read  by  Spaniards  to 
this  day  and  translated  again  and  again  into  foreign  languages. 
Probably  no  other  book  by  a  Spanish  author  is  as  widely 
known  in  Spain  as  the  Life  or  the  Interior  Castle  of  St.  Teresa,  with 
the  single  exception  of  Cervantes'  immortal  Don  Qyixote.  It  is 
surely  amazing  that  a  woman  who  lived  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
who  never  studied  in  the  Schools  or  pored  over  tomes  of  pro- 
found learning,  still  less  aspired  to  any  kind  or  degree  of  renown, 
should  have  won  such  a  reputation,  both  among  scholars  and 
among  the  people.  We  cannot  expect  to  find  the  reason  for  this 
in  the  purely  scientific  or  literary  merits  of  her  writings :  we  must 
look  for  it  by  going  deeper. 

Essentially,  her  popularity  has  been  due  to  Divine  grace,  which 
first  inspired  her  to  lay  aside  every  aim  but  the  quest  for  God  and 
then  enabled  her  to  attain  a  degree  of  purity  in  her  love  for  Him 
which  sustained  and  impelled  her.  Before  everything  else  it  is  the 
intense  fervour  of  this  love  which  speaks  to  lovers  everywhere,  just 
as  it  is  the  determination  and  courage  of  her  virile  soul  which 
inspires  those  who  long  to  be  more  determined  and  courageous 
than  they  are.  But  next  to  this,  it  is  the  purely  human  quality 
of  her  writings  which  makes  so  wide  an  appeal.  Her  methods 
of  exposition  are  not  rigidly  logical — but  neither  are  the  workings 
of  the  human  heart.  Her  books  have  a  gracioso  desorden  [Herrick's 
"sweet  disorder"]  which  the  ordinary  reader  finds  attractive, 
even  illuminating.  Her  disconnected  observations,  her  revealing 
parentheses,  her  transpositions,  ellipses  and  sudden  suspensions 
of  thought  make  her,  in  one  sense,  easier  to  read,  even  if,  in 
another,  they  sometimes  make  her  more  difficult  to  interpret. 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xxxix 

Even  setting  aside  her  lack  of  technical  training  as  a  writer,  her 
robust  and  highly  individual  temperament  would  have  led  her 
into  rebellion  against  academic  mechanism  of  conventionality 
and  style  in  language,  had  any  attempt  ever  been  made  to  force 
these  upon  her.  Where  she  uses  or  imitates  the  phraseology  of 
Holy  Scripture  she  does  so  unconsciously.  Often  she  never  even 
re-read  what  she  wrote;  who  that  is  not  a  professional  writer, 
but  just  a  man  in  the  street,  or  a  woman  in  the  kitchen,  can  help 
loving  her? 

Her  books  were  written  at  the  command  of  her  confessors — 
that  is  to  say,  under  obedience.  It  seemed  ridiculous  to  her  that 
a  person  so  imperfect  and  devoid  of  talent  as  herself — and  a 
woman  into  the  bargain! — could  possibly  write  anything  that 
would  edify  others.  She  was  much  better  employed,  she  herself 
thought,  at  the  spinning-wheel,  and  it  irked  her  to  leave  such  a 
profitable  occupation  as  spinning  to  take  up  her  pen.  "For  the 
love  of  God,"  she  once  exclaimed,  when  importuned  to  write, 
"let  me  work  at  my  spinning-wheel  and  go  to  choir  and  perform 
the  duties  of  the  religious  life,  like  the  other  sisters.  I  am  not 
meant  to  write:  I  have  neither  the  health  nor  the  intelligence 
for  it."1  The  following  passage  gives  as  vivid  an  idea  as  any  of 
the  spirit  in  which  she  wrote : 

The  authority  of  persons  so  learned  and  serious  as  my 
confessors  suffices  for  the  approval  of  any  good  thing  that  I 
may  say,  if  the  Lord  gives  me  grace  to  say  it,  in  which  case  it 
will  not  be  mine  but  His ;  for  I  have  no  learning,  nor  have  I  led  a 
good  life,  nor  do  I  get  my  information  from  a  learned  man  or 
from  any  other  person  whatsoever.  Only  those  who  have 
commanded  me  to  write  this  know  that  I  am  doing  so,  and 
at  the  moment  they  are  not  here.  I  am  almost  stealing  the 
time  for  writing,  and  that  with  great  difficulty,  for  it  hinders 
me  from  spinning  and  I  am  living  in  a  poor  house  and  have 
numerous  things  to  do.2 

But,  even  had  she  left  no  such  personal  testimony,  her  writings 
would  have  shown  how  little  she  trusted  for  inspiration  to  her 
reading  and  how  completely  devoid  she  was  of  any  constructional 
instinct  or  sense  of  literary  proportion.  Her  ideas  and  sentiments 
spring  spontaneously  to  her  mind  and  spirit.  Her  pen  runs  freely 
— sometimes  too  freely  for  her  mind  to  keep  pace  with  it.  Her 
memory,  as  she  frequently  confesses,  is  poor  and  her  few  quotations 

Xjer6mmo  Graoan:  Lvddano  del  verdadero  espintu,  .Chap.  V.    She  did,  however, 
eventually  wnte  the  book  she  was  asked  for:  it  was  the  Interior  Castle. 
*Life,  Chap.  X  [p.  61,  below]. 


xl  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

are  seldom  entirely  accurate.  But  she  is,  without  the  slightest 
doubt,  a  born  writer;  and,  when  a  person  belonging  to  that  rare 
and  fortunate  class  knows  nothing  of  artifice,  casts  aside  convention, 
and  writes  as  the  spirit  dictates,  the  result  can  never  be  dis- 
appointing. 

Mysticism,  furthermore,  is  in  part  an  experimental  science; 
and  he  who  has  the  profoundest  and  most  continuous,  exper- 
iences of  Divine  grace  is  the  best  qualified  to  speak  of  them.  St. 
Teresa  is  remarkable  both  for  the  intensity  and  for  the  con- 
tinuity of  her  mystical  experiences,  and  she  had  a  quickness  of 
mind,  a  readiness  of  expression  and  a  wealth  of  imagination 
which  particularly  well  fitted  her  for  describing  them.  Her 
descriptions  are  incomparably  more  vivid  and  intelligible  than 
those  of  many  professed  students  of  mystical  theology  who  have 
grown  grey  in  the  study  of  it.  This  superiority  much  more  than 
compensates  for  any  of  her  stylistic  idiosyncrasies  which  may 
scandalize  the  literary  preceptist.  Had  she  not  boldly  snapped 
asunder  the  bonds  of  logic  and  litel-ary  rule,  she  would  have 
been  powerless  to  take  wing  and  give  us  those  finest  of  passages 
which  describe  the  summit  of  Mount  Carmel.  We  should  have 
gained  one  more  methodical  writer  aspiring  to  a  "golden 
mediocrity" — but  we  should  have  lost  work  of  a  sublime  beauty 
bearing  the  ineffaceable  hall-mark  of  genius. 

But  in  any  case  she  could  never  have  written  impeccable 
manuals  or  methodically  ordered  "guides"  to  the  ascetic  or  the 
mystical  life:  her  genius  resembles  the  rushing  torrent,  not  the 
scientifically  constructed  canal.  She  cannot  even  be  said  to 
separate  asceticism  from  mysticism:  the  Way  of  perfection  is  an 
ascetic  treatise  which  mystical  ideas  are  constantly  invading; 
while  the  Interior  Castle,  though  fundamentally  mystical,  does  not 
hesitate  to  lay  down  and  develop  ascetic  principles.  Here, 
again,  she  conforms,  not  so  much  to  what  is  logical  as  to  what 
is  natural  and  human.  Any  divisions  which  she  makes  and 
adheres  to  are  those  made  by  nature  and  observable  in  life.  By 
any  and  every  test,  she  is  a  writer  to  be  read  by  the  many,  by 
the  people. 

If  obedience  was  St.  Teresa's  primary  motive  for  writing,  a 
secondary  motive  was  to  give  an  accurate  and  detailed  account 
of  her  spiritual  progress,  as  in  the  Life,  or,  as  in  most  of  her  other 
books,  to  guide  her  spiritual  daughters. 

The  seventeenth-century  Carmelite,  Fray  Jer6nimo  de  San 
Jose,  a  historian  of  the  Discalced  Reform  and  author  of  one 
of  the  earliest  biographies  of  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  makes  the 
following  enumeration  of  her  writings: 


GENERAL   INTRODUCTION  xli 

Our  Mother  St.  Teresa  wrote  five  books  and  seven  opuscules. 
The  books  are :  The  Book  of  her  Life,  The  Way  of  perfection,  The 
Mansions,'1  The  Foundations  and  Meditations  on  the  Songs.  The 
opuscules  are:  Method  for  the  visitation  of  her  convents,  Exclamations, 
Spiritual  Maxims,  Relations  of  her  spirit,  Favours  granted  her  by  the  Lord, 
Devout  verses  which  she  composed^  Letters  to  different  persons.  So  that, 
between  books,  opuscules  and  treatises,  the  number  of  books 
written  by  the  Saint  amounts  in  all  to  twelve.2 

* 

In  addition  to  these  works,  several  more  have  been  credited 
to  St.  Teresa,  though  hardly  on  sufficient  evidence.  From  a 
reference  in  the  Foundations  to  "a  tiny  little  book"  in  which  she 
"believed  she  said  something  about"  melancholy,8  it  has  been 
inferred  that  a  book  of  hers  on  this  subject  has  been  lost :  the  re- 
ference, however,  might  well  be  to  the  Way  of  perfection,  which  says 
a  good  deal  about  this,  and,  though  the  Way  of  perfection  might 
hardly  be  thought  "tiny",  she  refers  to  it  elsewhere  as  "little"  by 
contrast  with  her  considerably  larger  Life. 

Another  book,  which  certainly  exists,  was  thought  to  be  the 
work  of  St.  Teresa  as  long  ago  as  1630,  when  it  was  included  by 
Baltasar  Moreto  in  an  edition  of  her  works  published  in  that  year 
at  Antwerp.  The  only  reason  for  its  inclusion  appears  to  have 
been  that  it  was  found  among  some  papers  which  had  belonged 
to  her,  and  afterwards  became  the  property  of  Dona  Isabel  de 
Avellaneda,  wife  of  Don  Inigo  de  Cardenas,  President  of  the 
Council  of  Castile.  Its  title  is  Seven  Meditations  on  the  Paternoster. 
It  is  a  pious  commentary  on  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  seven  petitions 
of  which  are  treated  as  meditations,  each  intended  to  be  read  on  a 
different  day  of  the  week,  under  the  headings :  Father,  King, 
Spouse,  Shepherd,  Redeemer,  Physician,  Judge.  The  author  was 
both  a  learned  and  a  spiritually-minded  person,  well  versed  in 
Holy  Scripture-  and  with  a  decided  literary  bent.  The  most 
superficial  examination  reveals  it  to  be  clearly  non-Teresan.  Its 
style  is  quite  unlike  that  of  the  Saint  and  it  bears  the  marks  of  a 
careful  revision  entirely  foreign  to  her  habits  and  character. 
Her  earliest  biographers  make  no  mention  of  it  and  her  Order 
has  never  believed  it  to  be  hers.  "I  consider  it  quite  certain  that 
the  treatise  is  not  by  our  Holy  Mother,"  says  P.  Jer6nimo  de  San 
Jose,  and  gives  the  fullest  reasons  for  his  opinion.4  "All  who  read 
it  carefully,"  he  adds,  "and  even  those  who  read  it  without  great 
care,  will  think  likewise." 

1  [This  is  the  title  nearly  always  given  in  Spanish  to  the  Interior  Castle."] 

2  Htstond  del  Carmen  Descalzo,  Bk.  V,  Chap.  XIII. 

*  Foundations,  Chap.  VII  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  36,  n.a,  below). 
4  Quoted  in  full  bv  P.  Silveno,  I,  bax. 


xlii  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

P.  Ribera,  St.  Teresa's  first  biographer,  and  a  particularly 
conscientious  one,  tells  us  that,  when  very  young,  in  collaboration 
with  her  brother  Rodrigo,  she  wrote  a  book  on  chivalry.  "She 
had  so  excellent  a  wit,  and  had  so  well  absorbed  the  language 
and  style  of  chivalry,  that  in  the  space  of  a  few  months  she  and 
her  brother  Rodrigo  composed  a  book  of  adventures  and  fictions 
on  that  subject,  which  was  such  that  it  attracted  a  great  deal  of 
comment."1  This  story  is  confirmed  by  Gracian  in  his  notes 
to  Ribera's  book  and  has  been  frequently  repeated  and  taken  as 
accurate  by  later  writers.  There  would  be  nothing  intrinsically 
improbable  in  the  idea  that  a  writer  with  the  initiative  and 
imagination  of  St.  Teresa,  who,  we  know  (for  she  tells  us  herself 
in  great  detail) 2,  was  attracted  in  her  youth  by  romances  of  the 
Amadis  type,  should  try  to  produce  something  of  the  sort  herself 
by  way  of  recreation,  and  we  may  be  sure  that,  if  she  did  so,  the 
book  in  question  would  be  well  worth  reading.  P.  Andres  de  la 
Encarnacion,  an  eighteenth-century  editor  and  critic  of  St.  John 
of  the  Cross, 3  took  the  suggestion  very  seriously,  and  debated 
where  the  book  was  to  be  found,  and  whether  or  no,  supposing 
it  were  found,  it  ought  to  be  published.4  For  ourselves,  we  suspect 
that,  if  it  was  ever  written  at  all,  it  was  soon  destroyed  by  its  own 
authors,  either  because  of  the  nature  of  its  contents  or  for  fear 
that  it  would  fall  into  the  hands  of  their  father,  the  austere  Don 
Alonso,  who  for  such  an  indiscretion  would  no  doubt  have  meted 
out  anything  but  a  reward. 

By  great  good  fortune,  the  originals  of  nearly  all  St.  Teresa's 
principal  works  have  come  down  to  us,  together  with  those  of  a 
fair  number  of  her  letters  and  some  account  books  bearing  her 
signature.  This  fortune  we  owe  to  the  great  esteem  shown  for  St. 
Teresa  and  her  Reform  by  King  Philip  II,  who,  when  collecting 
books  and  manuscripts  for  the  library  which  he  proposed  to 
establish  in  his  newly  built  palace-monastery  at  El  Escorial, 
asked  P.  Doria  (Fray  Nicolds  de  Jesiis  Maria),6  at  that  time 
Vicar-General  of  the  Discalced  Carmelites,  if  he  could  obtain 
for  him  any  of  St.  Teresa's  autographs.  As  a  result,  four  of  these 
are  now  to  be  found  in  the  Escorial  Library:  namely,  the  Life, 
the  Way  of  perfection,  the  Foundations  and  the  Method  for  the  visitation 
of  her  convents.  The  autograph  of  the  Interior  Castle  is  preserved  in 
die  Discalced  Carmelite  convent  at  Seville,  and  a  second  auto- 
graph of  the  Way  of  perfection,  to  be  referred  to  later,  has  long  been  in 
the  possession  of  the  convent  of  the  Discalced  nuns  at  Valladolid. 

1  Ribera,  Bk.  I,  Chap.  V. 

*Life,  Chap.  II  (p.  13,  below). 

3  [St.  John  of  the  Cross,  I,  hv  ff,  et  passim  ] 

4B.  Nac.  MS.  3180,  Adiciones  E ,  Nos.  13,  14. 

5[Cf.  SSM.,  II,  155-6] 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xliii 

As  a  considerable  number  of  facsimile  reproductions  of  these 
manuscripts  have  been  published,  the  careful  study  of  the  Teresan 
writings  in  their  original  state  has  been  brought  within  the  reach 
of  all  who  are  qualified  to  undertake  it. 

Needless  to  say,  a  great  many  copies  of  the  Saint's  writings 
were  made  very  soon  after  her  death,  and,  needless  to  say,  too, 
these  copies  contained  numerous  errors.  To  put  an  end  to  this 
circulation  of  defective  versions  of  their  Mother  Foundress' 
works,  the  Discalced  Carmelites  took  steps  towards  the  prepar- 
ation of  a  complete  edition.  A  beginning  had  been  made  with 
their  publication  even  in  her  own  lifetime.  A  great  friend  of  hers, 
Don  Teutonic  de  Braganza,  Archbishop  of  fivora,  undertook  to 
bring  out  an  edition  of  the  Maxims  and  Way  of  perfection,  based 
upon  a  corrected  manuscript  (still  extant)  which  she  herself  sent 
him,  in  1579:  this  was  approved  by  the  ecclesiastical  censor  in 
1580  and  published  at  fivora  in  1583.  At  Salamanca,  in  1585, 
P.  Gracian  (Fray  Jer6nimo  de  la  Madre  de  Dios) 1  at  that  time 
Provincial  of  the  Reform,  re-published  the  Way  of  perfection., 
which  no  doubt  was  given  precedence  over  the  other  works  on 
account  of  its  practical  utility  in  the  training  of  religious.  An 
impetus  must  have  been  given  to  these  activities  by  St.  John  of  the 
Cross,  who,  just  about  this  time,  wrote  as  follows  in  the  com- 
mentary to  his  Spiritual  Canticle9. 

But  since  my  intent  is  but  to  expound  these  stanzas  briefly, 
as  I  promised  in  the  prologue,  these  other  things  must  remain 
for  such  as  can  treat  them  better  than  I.  And  I  pass  over  the 
subject  likewise  because  the  Blessed  Teresa  of  Jesus,  our  mother, 
left  notes  admirably  written  upon  these  things  of  the  spirit, 
the  which  notes  I  hope  in  God  will  speedily  be  printed  and 
brought  to  light.2 

St.  John  of  the  Cross  was  in  fact  present  at  the  meeting  of  the 
General  Chapter  in  1586  which  decided  to  publish  the  Saint's 
complete  works.  The  editorship  was  entrusted,  not  to  a  Car- 
melite, but  to  an  Augustinian — one  of  the  leading  men  of  letters 
in  Spain,  the  Salamancan  professor  Fray  Luis  de  Leon.  The 
volume,  of  over  a  thousand  octavo  pages,  was  published  at 
Salamanca  in  1588,  and  includes  the  following  works,  printed 
in  the  order  here  given:  Book  of  her  life;  some  of  the  Relations; 
Way  of  perfection;  Maxims;  Interior  Castle;  Exclamations.  The 
principal  omission,  it  will  be  observed,  is  the  Foundations:  so  many 
of  the  people  mentioned  in  it  were  still  living  that  its  publication 
was  thought  to  be  premature. 

1  [S  S.M.,  II,  151-89  ]  *  [St.  John  of  the  Cross,  II,  72.! 


xliv  GENERAL   INTRODUCTION 

On  the  whole,  as  one  would  expect  of  an  editor  who,  besides 
being  himself  an  author,  had  had  a  lifetime  of  academic  exper- 
ience, Fray  Luis  de  Le6n  acquitted  himself  remarkably  well. 
The  edition  has  some  omissions  and  variant  readings  of  such 
length  or  importance  that  they  can  hardly  have  been  due  to 
accident,  besides  a  considerable  number  of  errata,  notably  in 
punctuation — and,  owing  to  St.  Teresa's  often  compressed  and 
elliptical  style,  a  misplaced  comma  is  sometimes  enough  to  alter 
the  sense  of  an  entire  passage.  None  the  less,  judged  by  the  stand- 
ards of  its  day,  the  edition  is  a  distinctly  good  one. 

It  was  reprinted,  at  the  same  press,  in  the  following  year, 
after  which  date  further  editions  came  quickly.  The  works, 
in  a  more  or  less  complete  state,  were  published  at  Saragossa 
in  1592;  at  Madrid,  in  1597  and  1615;  at  Naples,  in  1604;  at 
Brussels,  in  1604;  at  Brussels,  in  1610;  at  Valencia,  in  1613  and 
1623.  The  Brussels  edition  was  the  first  to  include  the  Foundations. 
The  editio  princeps  was  reprinted  at  Madrid  in  1622  and  1627 
and  at  Saragossa  in  1623.  -"-n  1§Z°>  at  Antwerp,  Baltasar  Moreto 
published  an  edition  already  referred  to  as  including  the  apocry- 
phal Seven  Meditations.  A  single- volume  edition,  in  1635,  an<^  a 
two-volume  edition,  in  1636,  came  out  in  Madrid. 

This  rapidly  increasing  circulation  of  St.  Teresa's  works, 
however,  was  not  altogether  welcomed  by  her  Order,  for  the 
printers'  errors  in  each  edition  were  handed  down  to  jthe  next, 
often  with  considerable  additions,  while  undue  liberties  were  some- 
times taken  with  the  text  by  editors  less  conscientious  than  Fray 
Luis  de  Leon.  It  was  in  about  1645  ^at  P-  Francisco  de  Santa 
Maria,  the  historian  of  the  Discalced  Reform,  obtained  permission 
from  his  superiors  for  a  new  collation  of  the  printed  works  and 
the  autographs,  with  a  view  to  the  preparation  of  a  more  reliable 
edition  than  any  yet  published.  The  collation  was  entrusted 
to  a  number  of  friars  and  the  new  edition — the  second  which 
may  be  described  as  "official" — was  eventually  published  in 
Madrid  in  1661. 

We  need  not  follow  through  the  centuries  the  long  tale  of 
editions  of  the  Saint's  works — still  less  enumerate  the  editions 
of  individual  works  which  will  be  referred  to  later  in  the  intro- 
ductions to  each.  It  must  suffice,  in  this  brief  survey,  to  remark 
on  the  continuity  with  which  St.  Teresa  was  read  even  during 
the  eighteenth  and  early  nineteenth  centuries,  when  mysticism 
was  little  in  favour,  and  to  mention  a  few  of  the  editions  which 
may  be  considered  of  outstanding  interest. 

In  the  mid-eighteenth  century,  the  Order  determined  upon 
still  another  "official"  edition  and  entrusted  the  work  of  preparing 
one  to  that  excellent  critic  already  referred  to,  P.  Andres  de  la 


GENERAL   INTRODUCTION  xlv 

Encarnacion,  who  enlisted  the  aid  of  a  competent  palaeographer, 
a  companion  worthy  of  himself,  P.  Manuel  de  Santa  Maria. 
The  results  of  their  researches,  both  on  St.  Teresa  and  on  St. 
John  of  the  Gross,  remained  in  manuscript;  and  the  three 
volumes  of  Memorias  historiales,  in  the  National  Library  of  Spain, 
at  Madrid,  are  a  major  source  for  critical  work  on  the  Reformers 
of  Garmel.  As  many  of  the  archives  which  the  two  Fathers  used 
are  no  longer  in  existence,  their  work  has  preserved  much  that 
would  otherwise  have  been  irretrievably  lost,  including  part  of 
the  magnificent  collection  which  we  have  of  Teresan  letters. 
In  their  work  upon  the  texts,  they  detected  more  than  seven 
hundred  errors  in  the  Life  of  1627  and  twelve  hundred  in  Moreto's 
edition  of  the  Foundations.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  Order  found  the 
task  of  publishing  a  new  edition  too  much  for  it  and  was  content 
to  reprint,  in  1778,  an  edition  of  1752,  adding  to  it  a  volume 
containing  eighty-two  previously  unpublished  letters.  In  1793 
appeared  another  edition,  which  included  a  further  volume  of 
Letters  and  eighty-seven  fragments,  and  was  the  last  to  be  published 
by  the  Order  for  a  hundred  and  twenty  years.  Not  until  1851, 
when  the  religious  persecutions  of  the  early  years  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  were  over,  was  this  edition  reprinted,  and  ten 
years  later  came  the  edition  of  Don  Vicente  de  la  Fuente,  which 
forms  part  of  the  monumental  series  of  Spanish  classics  known 
as  the  "Biblioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles." 

The  strides  made  in  Spain,  during  the  last  half-century,  by 
Teresan  criticism,  and  indeed  by  Spanish  criticism  in  general, 
make  it  possible  for  Spaniards  to  look  back  from  a  great  distance 
at  the  work  of  La  Fuente,  both  here  and  in  his  later  six-volume 
edition  of  1881,  and  find  in  it  faults  of  many  kinds:  innumerable 
textual  errors,  frequent  inaccuracies  of  fact,  exaggerations  in 
judgment  and  an  undue  dogmatism  of  tone.  This  Aragonese 
editor,  though  learned  and  devout  in  a  high  degree,  had  the 
temperamental  bluntness  and  stubbornness  traditionally 
associated  with  Aragon,  and  from  this  his  work  frequently 
suffered.  None  the  less,  his  edition  remained  unsuperseded  for 
over  half  a  century — until,  in  fact,  in  the  year  of  the  quater- 
centenary  of  St.  Teresa's  birth,  appeared  the  first  volume  of  the 
definitive  Carmelite  edition  [which  we  owe  to  the  indefatigable 
P.  Silverio  de  Santa  Teresa.] 

[This  edition,  consisting  of  nine  volumes  (1915-24)  of  which 
the  last  three  comprise  the  largest  collection  yet  made  of  the 
Saint's  letters — four  hundred  and  fifty  in  all — concentrated 
upon  the  preparation  of  as  correct  as  possible  a  text,  using  the 
autographs,  or  photostats  of  them,  where  previous  editors  had 
relied  on  copies.  The  notes  to  the  text,  which  are  not  the  strongest 


xlvi  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

point  of  the  edition,  are  brief  and  in  the  main  factual,  though 
occasionally  they  sin  through  the  discursiveness  which  P.  Silverio 
seldom  for  long  avoids.  A  welcome  feature  was  the  inclusion 
of  many  newly  discovered  letters — for,  while  the  sacking  of 
religious  houses  during  the  nineteenth  century  had  led  to  much 
destruction,  it  had  also  brought  to  light  a  good  deal  that  had 
previously  been  unknown.  P.  Silverio's  appendices  contain 
numerous  hitherto  unpublished  documents,  many  of  them  of 
capital  importance  for  an  intimate  knowledge  of  St.  Teresa's 
life.] 

[The  foregoing  notes  bear  witness  of  the  most  practical  kind 
to  the  continuous  popularity  which  St.  Teresa  has  enjoyed  in 
her  own  country  since  the  time  of  her  death,  while,  at  the  end  of 
the  third  volume  of  this  edition,  will  be  found  a  select  biblio- 
graphy of  commentaries,  biographies  and  translations  of  her 
works  into  foreign  languages  which  will  testify  to  the  extent  to 
which  she  has  been  read  abroad.  In  our  own  country  it  was 
her  Life  which  at  first  chiefly  attracted  translators :  the  Antwerp 
translations  of  the  Jesuit  William  Malone  appeared  as  early 
as  1611;  twelve  years  later,  Sir  Tobias  Mathew's  version,  known 
as  The  Flaming  Hart,  was  published  in  London,  a  second  edition 
appearing  at  Antwerp  in  1642;  while  the  Life  and  Foundations 
were  published  by  Abraham  Woodhead  in  1669-71,  and  a  third 
volume,  containing  nearly  all  the  remaining  works,  came  out 
in  1675.  After  this  nearly  two  centuries  elapsed  before  the 
Saint  began  to  be  widely  read  once  more,  but  since  Dalton, 
with  his  new  translation  of  the  Life.  (1851),  led  the  revival, 
interest  in  her  has  never  ceased.  Dalton's  Way  of  perfection  and 
Interior  Castle  (1852),  Foundations  (1853)  and  small  selection  of 
Letters  (1853)  were  followed  by  the  Life  (1870)  and  Foundations 
(1871)  in  the  translation  of  David  Lewis:  the  Life,  still  leading 
the  other  works  in  popularity,  went  into  four  editions.  The 
mantle  of  Lewis  fell  upon  the  shoulders  of  a  Benedictine  nun 
of  Stanbrook  Abbey,  and  the  editions  of  the  Benedictines  of 
Stanbrook,  already  referred  to,  and  notably  their  versions  of 
the  Way  of  perfection  and  the  Interior  Castle  and  their  four-volume 
edition  of  the  Letters  (1919-24),  have  perhaps  done  more  than 
any  others  to  give  St.  Teresa  a  place  in  our  spiritual  life  com- 
parable to  that  which  she  holds  in  Spain.  Finally  we  must 
not  forget  the  valuable  contributions  made  to  our  knowledge 
of  the  Saint  and  her  times  by  the  learned  Carmelite,  Father 
Zimmerman,  whose  revisions  of,  and  introductions  to,  the  Lewis 
and  Stanbrook  translations  have  so  much  enhanced  their  value. 
England,  it  will  be  seen,  is  not  now  behindhand  in  her  apprecia- 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION  xlvii 

tion  of  a  Saint  on  whom  one  of  her  seventeenth-century  poets 
wrote  what  is  perhaps  the  finest  panegyric  in  verse  upon  her  in 
existence. 

O  thou  undanted  daughter  of  desires! 

By  all  thy  dowr  of  Lights  and  Fires; 

By  all  the  eagle  in  thee,  all  the  dove; 

By  all  thy  lives  and  deaths  of  love; 

By  thy  larg  draughts  of  intellectual!  day, 

And  by  thy  thirsts  of  love  more  large  then  they; 

By  all  thy  brim-filPd  Bowles  of  feirce  desire; 

By  thy  last  Morning's  draught  of  liquid  fire; 

By  the  full  kingdome  of  that  finall  kisse 

That  seiz'd  thy  parting  Soul,  and  seal'd  thee  his; 

By  all  the  heavn's  thou  hast  in  him 

(Fair  sister  of  the  Seraphim!); 

By  all  of  Him  we  have  in  Thee; 

Leave  nothing  of  my  Self  in  me. 

Let  me  so  read  thy  life,  that  I 

Unto  all  life  of  mine  may  dy.1] 


The  translator,  who,  in  the  main,  has  followed  P.  Silverio 
in  the  order  in  which  he  has  arranged  St.  Teresa's  worlds,  begs 
leave  to  append  a  note,  adapted  from  P.  Silverio,  upon  the 
principles  underlying  this  arrangement. 

He  begins  with  the  Saint's  earliest  and  fundamental  work, 
her  Life  (1562-5),  which  is  followed  by  a  shorter  work  closely 
connected  with  it  in  spirit,  and  hence  forming  a  natural  com- 
plement to  it — the  Relations.  It  might  be  thought  that  the  Life 
should  rather  have  been  followed  by  the  autobiographical 
Foundations,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  Life  is  an  auto- 
biography primarily  in  the  spiritual  sense — a  history  of  the 
manifestations  of  Divine  grace  in  the  writer's  soul — whereas 
the  Foundations  is  mainly  a  record  of  practical  achievements 
and  is  related  as  closely  with  the  history  of  the  Order  as  with 
the  life  of  the  Saint. 

After  the  Life  and  the  Relations  comes  the  Way  of  perfection 
(c.  1565),  written  under  obedience,  as  we  have  seen,  for  the  edifi- 
cation of  the  nuns  of  the  Saint's  first  foundation — St.  Joseph's, 
Avila — and  based  upon  her  own  meditations  on  the  Lord's 
Prayer.  Since  the  Life  contained  so  much  intimate  detail  it  was 

x["The  Flaming  Hart"  ("Upon  the  book  and  picture  of  the  seraphicall  St. 
Teresa").] 


xlviii  GENERAL   INTRODUCTION 

thought  unsuitable  for  publication  until  after  its  author's  death, 
and  the  Way  of  perfection  was  written,  in  one  sense,  to  supply 
its  place.  Next  conies  the  Interior  Castle  (1577),  more  mature 
and  more  intensely  mystical  than  its  two  predecessors.  These 
three  works,  taken  together,  may  be  thought  of  as  a  complete 
exposition  of  the  ascetic  and  mystical  system  of  St.  Teresa.  As 
closely  connected  with  the  Interior  Castle  in  its  nature  and  spirit 
as  are  the  Relations  with  the  Life  are  the  Conceptions  of  the  Love  oj 
God,  and  the  Exclamations  of  the  Soul  to  God,  the  two  loveliest  of 
St.  Teresa's  opuscules,  both  of  them  from  beginning  to  end 
aglow  with  mystical  love. 

Following  these,  as  standing  outside  their  sphere  and  (despite 
some  fine  and  noble  passages)  on  a  lower  plane,  comes  the 
Foundations  (1573  ff.},  the  last  of  the  four  major  works,  and,  follow- 
ing these,  we  give  the  minor  works,  with  the  poems  appropriately 
coming  last,  as  it  is  in  verse  that  St.  Teresa  is  least  noteworthy. 


THE  LIFE  OF  THE  HOLY  MOTHER 
TERESA  OF  JESUS 

INTRODUCTION 

Like  all  servants  of  God  to  whom  He  has  granted  special 
Braces,  St.  Teresa,  when  led  by  unfamiliar  paths,  had  continual 
nisgivings  lest  she  should  be  suffering  from  demoniacal  delusions. 
These  misgivings  she  frequently  revealed  to  her  spiritual 
iirectors,  keeping  nothing  back  from  them  but  opening  her  soul 
/vith  exemplary  simplicity  and  humility,  especially  when  what 
»he  had  to  tell  was  to  her  own  disadvantage.  Some  of  her  con- 
essors,  so  as  the  better  to  form  judgments  on  matters  of  such 
extreme  difficulty,  ordered  her  to  write  an  account  of  the  graces 
.hat  she  was  receiving  from  God,  more  particularly  of  the  graces 
riven  her  in  prayer,  and  to  record  anything  further  which  might 
acilitate  the  understanding  of  them. 

Such  was  the  origin  of  this  admirable  autobiography,  which, 
or  the  naturalness  with  which  it  is  written,  for  the  profundity 
md  detail  of  its  psychological  analysis  and  for  the  sublimity 
Df  the  spiritual  mysteries  which  it  unfolds,  is  worthy  of  a  place 
beside  the  Confessions  of  St.  Augustine. 

The  first  part  of  the  book  (Chaps.  I-X)  is  autobiographical 
n  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word:  it  describes  the  author's 
Darentage,  early  life  and  education,  the  interior  conflicts  which 
jhe  had  to  endure  before  embracing  religion,  the  alternating 
ukewarmness  and  fervour  of  her  life  at  the  Convent  of  the 
Incarnation,  in  Avila,  and  finally  the  crisis  which  ended  in  her 
resolve  to  seek  perfection  and  walk  in  the  way  of  prayer.  There 
then  follows  a  parenthetical  section  (Chaps.  XI-XXVII)1  which 
describes  the  contemplative  life  under  the  figure  of  the  Four 
Waters,  each  of  which  corresponds  to  one  stage  of  spiritual 
progress.  Only  at  the  end  of  these  seventeen  chapters  does  St. 
Teresa  return  to  her  own  life,  in  order  to  describe  (Chaps. 
XXVIII-XL)  the  surpassing  favours  which  the  Lord  granted 
tier  and  the  spiritual  trials  in  which  she  was  so  greatly  helped  by 
the  Franciscan  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara.2  Into  this  part  of  the 
book  is  introduced  her  account  of  the  foundation  of  the  first 

1  [More  properly  this  section  may  be  considered  as  ending  with  Chap.  XXII. 
*  I  will  now  return  to  the  place  where  I  left  off  the  description  of  my  life,"  says  St. 
Teresa  at  the  beginning  of  Chap.  XXIII ;  but  she  interpolates  a  further  generalization 
on  locutions,  so  the  narrative  is  not  quite  continuous  ] 

*[S-S.Af.,  II,  99-120.] 


2  LIFE 

convent  of  the  Reform,  St.  Joseph's,  Avila.  The  Life  closes 
with  a  moving  enumeration  of  the  new  favours  which  she  is 
receiving  from  God  and  of  the  effects  produced  by  them  in  her 
soul.  Into  the  whole  of  this  narrative  are  intercalated  discreet 
counsels  for  confessors,  tender  colloquies  with  God,  shrewd 
maxims  for  souls  desirous  of  attaining  perfection  and  ardent 
apostrophes  to  all  Christian  people. 

This  is  St.  Teresa's  most  important  treatise.  Without  it  neither 
the  Way  of  perfection  nor  the  Interior  Castle  could  be  properly 
understood :  she  herself  refers  to  it  on  several  occasions  as  her 
"big  book"  (libro  grande}.  Only  the  superficial  student,  however, 
is  content  for  long  to  think  of  these  three  works  as  separate. 
So  closely  united  are  they,  so  essentially  complementary  to  each 
other,  that  it  is  easier  to  regard  them  as  three  parts  of  one  great 
whole. 

Exactly  when  the  Life  was  written  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to 
determine.  P.  Domingo  Banez,  in  a  deposition  made  at  Sala- 
manca, asserts  that  "she  had  written  this  book  when  I  first 
came  into  contact  with  her  ,and  she  wrote  it  with  the  leave  of 
her  previous  confessors.  .  .  .  Afterwards  she  added  to  it  and 
recast  it  ",1  This  first  draft,  of  which  no  copy  is  known,  though 
most  of  it,  no  doubt,  was  incorporated  in  the  definitive  version, 
was  apparently  concluded  while  she  was  staying  with  Dona 
Luisa  de  la  Cerda  at  Toledo2  [where  she  would,  of  course,  have 
had  much  more  leisure  for  writing  than  in  the  ordinary  way]. 
At  any  rate,  the  note  appended  to  the  letter  at  the  end  of  the 
book  describes  it  as  having  been  finished  in  June  I56s,3  and  we 
know  that  she  went  to  Toledo  in  January  1562  and  stayed  there 
for  six  months.4 

At  the  end  of  1562  [or  possibly  early  in  1563,  when  the  founda- 
tion of  St.  Joseph's  had  been  completed,  the  resulting  "com- 
motion" had  ceased  and  her  mind  was  once  more  at  rest],  the 
Saint  began  to  rewrite  the  book,  and,  just  as  she  had  been  ordered 
to  write  the  first  draft  by  P.  ibanez,  so,  it  appears,  we  owe 
the  new  version  to  the  insistence  of  his  fellow-Dominican  P. 
Garcia  de  Toledo.  The  evidence  for  this  [so  far  as  it  can  be 
taken  as  referring  to  the  Life  as  a  whole]  comes  from  St.  Teresa 
herself,  for  in  the  preface  to  her  Foundations  she  writes  as  follows : 

In  the  year  1562,  when  I  was  in  the  Convent  of  Saint  Joseph, 
at  Avila,  which  had  been  founded  in  that  very  year,  I  was 
commanded  by  the  Dominican  Father  Fray  Garcia  de  Toledo, 

1  Git.  La  Fuente*  Escntos  de  Santa  Teresa,  Madnd,  1861,  II,  377. 

2  Gf  p.  23 2 3  below. 

3  Gf  p.  300,  below. 

4  Cf.  p.  341,  below.  *  ' 


INTRODUCTION  3 

who  at  that  time  was  my  confessor,  to  write  an  account  of 
the  foundation  of  that  convent,  and  also  of  many  other  things, 
as  anyone  who  reads  the  book,  if  it  is  ever  published,  will 
see.1 

Further  encouragement,  according  to  Gracian,2  came  from  the 
Inquisitor  Francisco  Soto,  whom  she  met  at  Avila,  from  "other 
confessors  who  had  given  her  the  same  command"  and  from  "the 
requests  of  many  of  her  friends".  For  greater  clarity,  the  new 
version  was  divided  into  forty  chapters. 

The  work  must  have  proceeded  very  slowly,  for  there  are 
a  number  of  indications  that  it  was  not  finished  until  the  very 
end  of  1565.  The  following,  in  the  approximate  order  in  which 
they  occur,  are  the  most  reliable  of  these3: 

1.  "The  twenty-eight  years  which  have  gone  by  since  I 
began  prayer"  (Chap.  VIII:  p.  49). 

2.  "The  twenty-eight  years  and  more  that  have  gone  by 
since  I  became  (a  nun)"  (Chap.  XXXVI:  p.  252). 

3.  "The  twenty-seven   years    during   which   I   have  been 
practising  prayer"  (Chap.  X:  p.  62). 

4.  "It  is  now,  I  believe,  some  five,  or  perhaps  six,  years 
since  the  Lord  granted  me  this  prayer  [the  Third  Water] 
in  abundance"    (Chap.  XVI:  p.  96). 

5.  Her  first  contact  with  the  Society  of  Jesus  took  place 
"after  almost  twenty  years'    experience  of  prayer"    (Chap. 
XXIII:  p.  150). 

6.  "I  am  not  yet  fifty"    (Chap.  XXXVII:  p.  266). 

7.  Mention  of  the  death  of  P.  Ibafiez  (Chap.  XXXVIII: 
p.  272.   Cf.  Chap.  XXXIV,  p.  238). 

8.  Mention  of  the  receipt  of  a  Brief  from  Rome  which  was 
dated  July  17,  1565    (Chap.  XXXIX:  p.  285). 

The  first  five  of  these  references  enable  us  to  postulate  and 
confirm  an  approximate  date;  the  last  three  confirm,  this  further 
and  help  us  to  fix  it  more  exactly. 

1-5.  What  St /Teresa  means  by  "beginning  prayer"  is  evident 
from  No.  5.  Despite  the  unflattering  account  which  she  gives 
of  the  state  of  her  soul  during  her  first  years  as  a  nun,  she  clearly 
takes  the  date  of  her  profession  as  roughly  the  beginning  of  her 
life  of  prayer.  Since  we  know  that  her  relations  with  the  Society 

1  [Vol.  Ill,  p.  xxi,  below.    The  command  was  given  her  in  1562  but  the  actual 
writing  may  not  have  been  begun  nil  later.] 

2  Lucidono,  etc.,  Part  I,  Chap.  III. 

3  [Only  Nos.  7  and  8  are  'given  by  P.  Silveno  and  the  discussion  of  them  all  is  the 
translator's.] 


4  LIFE 

of  Jesus  began  about  1557,  this  puts  the  earlier  date  at  1537, 
and  Nos.  i,  3  then  prove  that  Chapters  VIII  and  X  were  being 
written  in  1564-5.  The  fact  that  the  date  of  Chapter  X  is  appar- 
ently a  year  earlier  than  that  of  Chapter  VIII  may  mean  that  the 
earlier  chapter  was  revised  a  second  time  after  the  later  one  had 
been  written,  or  more  likely,  as  the  Saint  revised  her  work 
but  little,  it  may  merely  be  a  reminder  to  us  that  her  figures  can- 
not be  implicitly  relied  upon. 

No.  2  supplies  a  check  "on  these  calculations.  If  by  "becoming 
a  nun"  she  means  "making  her  profession",  Chapter  XXXVI 
was  also  being  written  in  1565  j1  if  she  means  entering  the  convent, 
the  date  is  1564.  In  any  case,  the  foregoing  calculations  seem 
definitely  to  put  out  of  court  the  critics  who  attempt  to  date  her 
profession  1535,  or  even  earlier,  as  also  does  the  reference  in 
Chapter  VIII  to  the  "nearly  twenty  years  on  that  stormy  sea" 
which  she  spent  before  the  intensification  of  her  spiritual  life, 
which  we  can  date  with  fair  accuracy  at  1556-7. 

The  evidence  so  far  considered  suggests  that  whatever  delays 
occurred  during  the  writing  of  the  definitive  Life  took  place 
during  the  years  1562-4,  and  that  from  the  end  of  1564  onwards 
the  pace  of  composition  was  greatly  accelerated. 

No.  6  proves  that,  if  the  Saint  knew  her  own  age  (cf.  p.  266, 
below),  Chapter  XXXVII  was  being  written  before  March  28, 
1565,  the  day  on  which  she  was  fifty.  This  is  a  little  earlier  than 
we  should  have  expected  and  it  is  interesting  that  the  evidence 
as  to  Chapter  XXXVI  may  also  point  to  a  date  slightly  in  advance 
of  that  suggested  by  other  testimony.  Can  these  two  chapters 
be  earlier  than  some  which  precede  them? 

No.  7  means  that  Chapter  XXXVIII  was  written  after 
February  2,  1565.  If  very  soon  after,  this  and  the  preceding 
chapter  may  well  have  been  written  consecutively. 

No.  8  not  only  proves  that  Chapter  XXXIX  could  not  have 
been  written  before  the  late  summer  of  1565  (and  there  is  nothing 
in  the  text  to  suggest  that  it  was  written  immediately  on  receipt 
of  the  Brief)  but  indicates  that,  if  this  Brief  took  five  months  in 
getting  from  Rome  to  Avila  as  its  predecessor  did  (p.  248,  n.i, 
below},  it  was  probably  written  as  late  as  December,  or  even 
early  in  the  next  year.2 

1  But  perhaps  late  in  that  year:  note  the  "and  more",  which  does  not  occur  in  the 
earlier  passage. 

a  [Tworeferences  in  Chap.  XXIX,  briefly  discussed  in  footnotes  to  pp.  1 87, 1 89,  below, 
seem  to  support  the  theory  of  a  later  rather  than  an  earlier  date  within  the  limits 
we  have  laid  down.  If  we  assume  the  first  imaginary  vision  to  have  occurred  in 
1560  (p.  xxvm)  they  indicate  that  Chap  XXIX  was  written  either  in  the  late  summer, 
or  at  the  very  end,  of  1565.  Of  the  references  given  in  the  text  above,  No  6  provides 
the  only  strong  evidence  against  the  supposition  that  the  latter  part  of  the  book  was  not 
written  till  later  in  1565  and  not  finished  until  early  in  1566 1 


%  INTRODUCTION  5 

Our  general  conclusions,  then,  will  be  that,  though  St.  Teresa 
was  commanded  to  write  the  Life  in  the  latter  part  of  1562, 
she  did  comparatively  little  of  it  for  some  two  years,  and  then 
worked  more  rapidly  and  intensively,  writing  most  it  during 
1565  and  finishing  it  only  at  the  very  end  of  that  year  or  early 
in  1566.] 

Having  written  the  book,  she  endeavoured  to  submit  it,  as 
Soto  had  recommended  her  to  do,  to  the  scrutiny  of  the  famous 
preacher  and  confessor  Juan  de  Avila,1  but  was  not  immediately 
successful.  A  letter  appended  to  the  autograph  manuscript  of 
the  Life  tells  us  that  the  book  had  no  sooner  been  completed 
("I  had  not  finished  reading  through  what  I  had  written") 
than  the  recipient  of  the  letter2  asked  for  it;  whereupon  the 
author  begged  him  to  make  any  emendations  in  it  which  he 
thought  weU  and  before  sending  it  to  P.  Avila  to  have  it  copied. 
As  at  this  time  P.  Banez,  one  of  the  Saint's  two  confessors,  was 
professor  of  theology  at  the  Dominican  College  of  St.  Thomas 
in  Avila,  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  two  Fathers  examined  the 
manuscript  together,  which  would  no  doubt  mean  a  delay  in 
sending  it  on  as  its  author  had  asked. 

Her  wish  was  apparently  in  part  prompted  by  the  fame  of 
the  great  Apostle  of  Andalusia  as  a  discerner  of  spirits  and  in 
part  due  to  the  recommendation  of  the  Inquisitor  Francisco 
Soto.  That  before  sending  him  the  book  she  had  written  to  him 
asking  him  to  give  her  his  opinion  on  it  we  deduce  from  one  of 
his  own  letters  dated  April  2  (probably  1568)3  which  is  still 
extant,  and  in  which  he  says : 

I  want  you  to  set  your  mind  at  rest  with  regard  to  the 
examination  of  that  matter  (negocio),  for,  if  such  persons  as 
these  have  seen  it,  you  have  done  everything  that  is  incumbent 
upon  you.  I  really  do  not  believe  that  I  could  point  out 
anything  which  these  Fathers  have  not  pointed  out  already.3 

But  neither  this  assurance  nor  the  approval  given  to  the  book 
by  the  two  Dominican  theologians  could  entirely  satisfy  its 
author;  she  therefore  had  recourse  to  her  good  friend  Dona 
Luisa  de  la  Cerda,  whom  Juan  de  Avila  also  knew  and  esteemed 

i[SSM.9  II,  123-48.] 

2  Yepes  asserts  that  this  was  P.  Garcia  de  Toledo,  a  statement  confirmed  by  docu- 
ments preserved  in  the  Dominican  College  at  Avila.  P.  Andres  de  la  Encarnacion 
(Memorias  kistoriales,  N,  No.  27)  shares  the  view.  P.  Gracian,  however  (Lucidano, 
Part  I,  Chap.  Ill),  believes  that  the  recipient  was  Francisco  de  Salcedo,  M.  Daza  has 
also  been  suggested. 

8  [My  translation.  Another  version  will  be  found  in  Letters  (St.),  I,  41.  (The  heading 
there  is  incorrect,  for  Juan  de  Avila  had  not  seen  the  manuscript  when  he  wrote)  ] 


6  LIFE 

highly.  In  May  1568  Dona  Luisa  apparently  had  the  manuscript 
in  her  possession,  for  St.  Teresa  writes  begging  her  to  send 
it  to  him:  "I  cannot  understand/'  she  says,  "why  Your 
Ladyship  did  not  send  it  at  once."1  Nine  days  later,  she  is 
desperate : 

I  believe  it  is  the  devil  who  is  preventing  Master  Avila  from 
seeing  this  thing  (negocio]  of  mine.  I  should  be  sorry  if  he  were 
to  die  first:  that  would  be  a  great  calamity.  I  beseech  Your 
Ladyship,  as  you  are  so  near,  to  send  it  him,  sealed,  by  one 
of  your  own  messengers.2 

By  June  23  it  would  appear  that  P.  Avila  has  it,  or  is  about  to 
have  it,  as  she  asks  Dona  Luisa  to  see  that  it  is  sent  back  to  her  as 
quickly  as  possible,  together  with  his  written  opinion  on  it.  It 
was  actually  returned  to  her,  with  "a  long  letter"3  containing 
only  minor  criticisms,  in  September.  Still  she  was  not  satisfied, 
and  the  next  to  read  it  were  PP.  Martin  Gutierrez  and  Jeronimo 
Ripalda,  two  priests  of  the  Society  of  Jesus,  the  latter  of  whom 
urged  her  to  write  the  history  of  her  later  foundations.4  It  was 
then  read  by  Fray  Bartolome  de  Medina,  a  Dominican  who  at 
one  time  had  been  highly  critical  of  the  Saint  but  was  converted 
into  one  of  her  strongest  supporters. 

And  these  were  only  the  beginnings  of  the  book's  travels. 
Not  merely  religious,  but  secular  clergy  and  lay-folk,  wanted 
to  see  it  or  to  show  it  to  others;  and  soon  a  number  of  copies 
were  in  circulation,  much  to  the  disquiet  both  of  the  author 
and  of  P.  Bafiez,  who  feared  that  not  all  its  readers  might  be  as 
prudent  as  these  first.  Banez,  at  one  point,  reproached  St.  Teresa 
for  sending  the  book  about  too  freely — "although",  he  adds 
in  his  own  account  of  the  affair,  "I  realize  that  the  fault  was 
not  hers".5 

Some  trouble  did  in  fact  occur  with  that  imperious  and  self- 
willed  lady,  Dona  Maria  de  Mendoza,  Princess  of  £boli,  whose 
character  will  be  revealed  more  clearly  in  the  Saint's  narrative 
of  her  own  foundations.6  Hearing  of  the  book,  about  the  summer 
of  1569,  the  Princess  insisted  upon  its  being  lent  her,  and  its 
author,  though  at  first  demurring  to  her  importunity,  had 
eventually  to  yield.  The  Princess  promised  her  that  the  manu- 
script should  be  read  only  by  herself  and  her  husband,  but, 

1  Letters,  5.  Cf.  Letters  (St ),  I,  18. 
*  Letters,  6.  Cf.  Letters  (St.),  I,  23-4. 

3  Letters,  11    Cf  Letters  (St.),  I,  39 

4  Cf  Vol.  Ill,  p.  xxii,  below. 
6  Cit  P.  Stlveno,  I,  cxxiu. 

8  Foundations,  Chap.  XVII  (VoL  III,  pp   79-85,  below). 


INTRODUCTION  7 

whether  by  accident  or  by  design,  it  got  into  the  hands  of  the 
entire  household,  and  soon  its  contents  began  to  be  widely 
known  and  its  most  intimate  revelations  to  be  scoffed  at  or 
denounced  as  fraud  or  delusion. 

About  the  chronology  of  what  happened  next  there  is  some 
disagreement,  but  the  sequence  of  the  facts  is  fairly  clear.  After 
the  Princess's  husband  died,  she  herself  took  the  Discalced 
habit  and  caused  a  great  commotion,  as  a  result  of  which  the 
Pastrana  foundation,  of  which  she  had  been  the  patroness,  was 
moved  to  Segovia.1  It  is  believed  that  St.  Teresa's  opposition 
to  her  conduct  led  the  Princess  to  denounce  the  Life  to  the 
Inquisition:  in  any  case,  it  was  so  denounced,  and  P.  Banez, 
fearful  for  the  result,  made  a  few  small  emendations  in  the 
manuscript  and  then  himself  laid  it  before  the  Inquisitors. 
These  events  probably  all  took  place  in  the  years  1574-5.  Another 
Dominican  was  charged  with  its  official  examination  and  his 
judgment  fwas  wholly  in  its  favour,  but  the  Inquisitors  retained 
the  manuscript  and  Gracian  advised  Teresa  to  allow  them  to  do 
so.  When  eventually  application  was  made  to  them  for  it,  they 
at  once  returned  it  and  allowed  it  to  be  copied  further  and 
circulated  among  the  communities  of  the  Reform. 

As  we  have  said,  the  autograph  of  the  Life  is  now  in  the  Library 
of  El  Escorial.  On  the  second  folio  is  the  inscription  (not  by  the 
author) :  "Life  of  the  Mother  Teresa  of  Jesus,  written  by  her  own 
hand."  The  manuscript  has  no  punctuation  and  few  divisions 
into  paragraphs  but  the  writing  is  vigorous,  clear  and  legible 
and  there  are  hardly  more  than  a  dozen  erasures.  Some  of  these 
are  the  author's;  some  are  by  P.  Banez;  and  some  by  a  third 
person — perhaps  P.  Avila  [though  P.  Silverio  is  inclined  to  think 
not].  At  the  end  of  the  manuscript  is  an  autograph  aprobacwn 
by  P.  Banez,  dated  July  7,  1575. 

P.  Gracian  had  a  number  of  copies  made  of  the  Life,  but 
nearly  all  these  have  been  lost.  One  of  the  oldest  copies  known, 
which  is  kept  at  El  Escorial,  was  made  by  the  Saint's  niece 
Teresa,  daughter  of  her  brother  Lorenzo,  from  the  manuscript 
already  referred  to  as  having  been  held  by  the  Inquisition. 
Another,  preserved  in  the  Discalced  Carmelite  convent  at  Sala- 
manca, is  dated  June  26,  1585  and  was  apparently  made  by  a 
nun  of  the  Reform'  were  the  autograph  not  still  in  existence, 
it  would  be  of  the  first  importance.  In  the  same  convent  there 
was 'formerly  a  copy  of  the  editio  princeps  of  St.  Teresa's  works, 
in  which  the  pages  containing  the  Life  have  some  marginal  notes 
in  the  handwriting  of  P.  Gracian,  referring  principally  to  the 
i  Cf.  Vol.  Ill,  p.  85,  below. 


8  LIFE 

identity  of  persons  mentioned  in  the  text.  Since  in  some  places 
he  could  have  gained  his  information  only  from  St.  Teresa's 
own  lips,  these  notes  are  of  great  value.  The  whereabouts  of 
this  book  is  now  unknown,  but,  as  the  marginal  notes  were 
copied  by  P.  Andres  de  la  Encarnaci6n,  this  is  of  little  moment. 
Some  of  these  sources  will  be  referred  to  in  footnotes  in  the  pages 
which  follow. 


THE-  LIFE  OF  THE  HOLY  MOTHER  TERESA  OF  JESUS 

AND  SOME  OF  THE  FAVOURS  GRANTED"  TO  HER  BY  GOD,  DESCRIBED 
BY  HERSELF  AT  THE  COMMAND  OF  HER  CONFESSOR,  TO  WHOM  SHE 
SUBMITS  AND  ADDRESSES  IT  AS  FOLLOWS.1 

As  I  have  been  commanded  and  given  full  liberty  to  write 
about  my  way  of  prayer  and  the  favours  which  the  Lord  has 
granted  me,  I  wish  I  had  also  been  allowed  to  describe  clearly 
and  in  full  detail  my  grave  sins  and  wicked  life.  To  do  this  would 
be  a  great  comfort  to  me;  but  it  has  been  willed  otherwise — in 
fact,  I  have  been  subjected  to  severe  restrictions  in  the  matter. 
So,  for  the  love  of  the  Lord,  I  beg  anyone  who  reads  this  account 
of  my  life  to  bear  in  mind  how  wicked  it  has  been — so  much  so 
that,  among  all  the  saints  who  have  been  converted  to  God, 
I  can  find  none  whose  life  affords  me  any  comfort.  For  I  realize 
that,  once  the  Lord  had  called  them,  they  never  offended  Him 
again.  I,  however,  became  worse;  and  not  only  so,  but  I  seem  to 
have  studied  how  to  resist  the  favours  which  His  Majesty  granted 
me.  I  knew  that  I  had  the  obligation  to  serve  Him  better,  but 
realized  that,  of  myself,  I  could  not  pay  the  least  part  of  what  I 
owed  Him. 

May  He  Who  waited  so  long  for  me  be  blessed  for  ever.  I 
beseech  Him  with  my  whole  heart  to  give  me  grace  to  'write  this 
account  of  my  life,  according  to  my  confessors'  command,  with 
complete  clarity  and  truthfulness.  The  Lord  Himself,  I  know, 
has  long  wished  it  to  be  written  but  I  have  not  presumed  to 
write  it.  May  it  be  to  His  glory  and  praise;  and  may  it  lead  my 
confessors  to  know  me  better,  so  that  they  may  help  my  weakness 
and  I  may  be  enabled  to  render  the  Lord  some  part  of  the  service 
which  I  owe  Him.  May  He  be  praised  by  all  things  for  ever. 
Amen. 

1  This  title  is  from  the  editio  p*inceps. 


[CHAP. 


CHAPTER  I 

Describes  how  the  Lord  began  to  awaken  her  soul  in  childhood  to  a  love 
of  virtue  and  what  a  help  it  is  in  this  respect  to  have  good  parents. 

If  I  had  not  been  so  wicked  it  would  have  been  a  help  to  me 
that  I  had  parents  who  were  virtuous  and  feared  God,  and  also 
that  the  Lord  granted  me  His  favour  to  make  me  good.  My 
father1  was  fond  of  reading  good  books  and  had  some  in  Spanish 
so  that  his  children  might  read  them  too.  These  books,  together 
with  the  care  which  my  mother  took  to  make  us  say  our  prayers 
and  to  lead  us  to  be  devoted  to  Our  Lady  and  to  certain  saints, 
began  to  awaken  good  desires  in  me  when  I  was,  I  suppose, 
about  six  or  seven  years  old.  It  was  a  help  to  me  that  I  never  saw 
my  parents  inclined  to  anything  but  virtue.  They  themselves 
had  many  virtues.  My  father  was  a  man  of  great  charity  towards 
the  poor,  who  was  good  to  the  sick  and  also  to  his  servants — 
so  much  so  that  he  could  never  be  brought  to  keep  slaves,  because 
of  his  compassion  for  them.  On  one  occasion,  when  he  had  a 
slave  of  a  brother  of  his  in  the  house,2  he  was  as  good  to  her  as 
to  his  own  children.  He  used  to  say  that  it  caused  him  intolerable 
distress  that  she  was  not  free.  He  was  strictly  truthful:  nobody 
ever  heard  him  swear  or  speak  evil.  He  was  a  man  of  the  most 
rigid  chastity. 

My  mother,  too,  was  a  very  virtuous  woman,  who  endured  a 
life  of  great  infirmity:  she  was  also  particularly  chaste.  Though 
extremely  beautiful,  she  was  never  known  to  give  any  reason  for 
supposing  that  she  made  the  slightest  account  of  her  beauty; 
and,  though  she  died  at  thirty-three,  her  dress  was  already 
that  of  a  person  advanced  in  years.  She  was  a  very  tranquil 
woman,  of  great  intelligence.  Throughout  her  life  she  endured 
great  trials  and  her  death  was  most  Christian.3 

We  were  three  sisters  and  nine  brothers :  all  of  them,  by  the 
goodness  of  God,  resembled  their  parents  in  virtue,  except  myself, 
though  I  was  my  father's  favourite.  And,  before  I  began  to  offend 

1  St.  Teresa's  father,  Don  Alonso  Sanchez  de  Gepeda,  was  twice  married    By  his 
first  wife  he  had  three  children;  by  his  second,  Dona  Beatriz  Davila  y  Ahumada,  nine. 
Of  these  nine,  Rodngo  and  Teresa  were  respectively  the  second  and  the  third,  while 
Lorenzo,  father  of  the  Teresa  who  copied  the  Life  (p    7,  above)  was  the  fourth. 
Both  parents  were  well  descended  and  the  family  was  in  comfortable  circumstances, 
though  not  wealthy. 

2  At  this  time  well-to-do  families  in  Spain  often  kept  as  slaves  Moors  whose  families 
had  remained  in  the  country  after  the  Reconquest 

3  Dona  Beatriz  had  married  at  fourteen,  having  been  born  in  1495,  and  died  in 
1528. 


I]  LIFE  i] 

God,  I  think  there  was  some  reason  for  this,  for  it  grieves  me 
whenever  I  remember  what  good  inclinations  the  Lord  had  giver 
me  and  how  little  I  profited  by  them.  My  brothers  and  sisters 
never  hindered  me  from  serving  God  in  any  way. 

I  had  one  brother  almost  of  my  own  age.1  It  was  he  whom 
I  most  loved,  though  I  had  a  great  affection  for  them  all,  as  had 
they  for  me.  We  used  to  read  the  lives  of  saints  together;  and. 
when  I  read  of  the  martyrdoms  suffered  by  saintly  women  for 
God's  sake,  I  used  to  think  they  had  purchased  the  fruition 
of  God  very  cheaply;  and  I  had  a  keen  desire  to  die  as  they  had 
done,  not  out  of  any  love  for  God  of  which  I  was  conscious,  but 
in  order  to  attain  as  quickly  as  possible  to  the  fruition  of  the 
great  blessings  which,  as  I  read,  were  laid  up  in  Heaven.  I 
used  to  discuss  with  this  brother  of  mine  how  we  could  become 
martyrs.  We  agreed  to  go  off  to  the  country  of  the  Moors, 
begging  our  bread  for  the  love  of  God,  so  that  they  might  behead 
us  there;  and,  even  at  so  tender  an  age,  I  believe  the  Lord  had 
given  us  sufficient  courage  for  this,  if  we  could  have  found  a 
way  to  do  it;  but  our  greatest  hindrance  seemed  to  be  that  we 
had  a  father  and  a  mother.2  It  used  to  cause  us  great  astonish- 
ment when  we  were  told  that  both  pain  and  glory  would  last 
for  ever.  We  would  spend  long  periods  talking  about  this  and  we 
liked  to  repeat  again  and  again,  "For  ever — ever — ever!" 
Through  our  frequent  repetition  of  these  words,  it  pleased  the 
Lord  that  in  my  earliest  years  I  should  receive  a  lasting^mpression 
of  the  way  of  truth. 

When  I  saw  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  go  to  any  place 
where  they  would  put  me  to  death  for  God's  sake,  we  decided 
to  become  hermits,  and  we  used  to  build  hermitages,  as  well  as 
we  could,  in  an  orchard  which  we  had  at  home.  We  would 
make  heaps  of  small  stones,  but  they  at  once  fell  down  again, 
so  we  found  no  way  of  accomplishing  our  desires.  But  even  now 
it  gives  me  a  feeling  of  devotion  to  remember  how  early  God 
granted  me  what  I  lost  by  my  own  fault. 

I  gave  alms  as  I  could,  which  was  but  little.  I  tried  to  be  alone 
when  I  said  my  prayers,  and  there  were  many  such,  in  particular 
the  rosary,  to  which  my  mother  had  a  great  devotion,  and  this 
made  us  devoted  to  them  too.  Whenever  I  played  with  other  little 
girls,  I  used  to  love  building  convents  and  pretending  that  we 

1  The  reference  is  almost  certainly  to  Rodrigo,  who  was  four  years  her  senior. 
He  emigrated  to  America  in  1535  and  died  two  years  later  fighting  the  Indians  on 
the  banks  of  the  Rio  de  la  Plata.  On  the  incident  in  the  text,  see  Yepes,  Bk.  I, 
Chap.  II. 

8  Ribera  (Bk.  I,  Chap.  IV)  describes  the  attempt  as  having  actually  been  made.  The 
children  left  Avila  and  "went  on  over  the  bridge,  until  they  were  met  by  an  uncle 
who  took  them  back  home  to  their  mother,  greatly  to  her  relief,  for  she  had^been 
having  them  searched  for  everywhere  with  great  anxiety". 


is  LIFE  [CHAP. 

were  nuns;  and  I  think  I  wanted  to  be  a  nun,  though  not  so  much 
as  the  other  things  I  have  described. 

I  remember  that,  when  my  mother  died,  I  was  twelve  years 
of  age  or  a  little  less.1  When  I  began  to  realize  what  I  had  lost, 
I  went  in  my  distress  to  an  image  of  Our  Lady2  and  with  many 
tears  besought  her  to  be  a  mother  to  me.  Though  I  did  this  in 
my  simplicity,  I  believe  it  was  of  some  avail  to  me;  for  whenever 
I  have  commended  myself  to  this  Sovereign  Virgin  I  have 
been  conscious  of  her  aid ;  and  eventually  she  has  brought  me 
back  to  herself.  It  grieves  me  now  when  I  observe  and  reflect 
how  I  did  not  keep  sincerely  to  the  good  desires  which  I  had 
begun. 

O  my  Lord,  since  it  seems  Thou  art  determined  on  my  salvation 
— and  may  it  please  Thy  Majesty  to  save  me !• — and  on  granting 
me  all  the  graces  Thou  hast  bestowed  on  me  already,  why  has 
it  not  seemed  well  to  Thee,  not  for  my  advantage  but  for  Thy 
honour,  that  this  habitation  wherein  Thou  hast  had  continually 
to  dwell  should  not  have  become  so  greatly  defiled?  It  grieves 
me,  Lord,  even  to  say  this,  since  I  know  that  the  fault  has  been 
mine  alone,  for  I  believe  there  is  nothing  more  Thou  couldst 
have  done,  even  from  this  early  age,  to  make  me  wholly  Thine. 
Nor,  if  I  should  feel  inclined  to  complain  of  my  parents,  could 
I  do  so,  for  I  saw  nothing  in  them  but  every  kind  of  good  and 
anxiety  for  my  welfare.  But  as  I  ceased  to  be  a  child  and  began 
to  become  aware  of  the  natural  graces  which  the  Lord  had  given 
me,  and  which  were  said  to  be  many,  instead  of  giving  Him 
thanks  for  them,  as  I  should,  I  started  to  make  use  of  them  to 
offend  Him.  This  I  shall  now  explain. 


CHAPTER  II 

Describes  how  these  virtues  were  gradually  lost  and  how  important'  it 
is  in  childhood  to  associate  with  people  of  virtue. 

What  I  shall  now  describe  was,  I  think,  something  which  began 
to  do  me  great  harm.  I  sometimes  reflect  how  wrong  it  is  of 
parents  not  to  contrive  that  their  children  shall  always,  and  in 
every  way,  see  things  which  are  good.  My  mother,  as  I  have  said, 

1  Actually,  as  we  have  seen,  she  was  thirteen.  Dona  Beatriz  made  her  will,  shortly 
before  her  death,  on  November  24,  1528. 

2  Tradition  has  it  that  the  image  was  one  which  is  now  m  Avila  Cathedral,  and 
that  Teresa  and  Rodrigo  also*  commended  themselves  to  this  Virgin  before  setting 
out  to  be  martyred.  Yearly,  on  October  15,  a  ceremony  commemorating  the  event 
described  in  the  text  takes  place  in  Avila. 


II]  LIFE  13 

was  very  good  herself,  but,  when  I  came  to  the  age  of  reason, 

I  copied  her  goodness  very  little,  in  fact  hardly  at  all,  and  evil 

things  did  me  a  great  deal  of  harm.    She  was  fond  of  books  of 

chivalry;  and  this  pastime  had  not  the  ill  effects  on  her  that  it 

had  on  me,  because  she  never  allowed  them  to  interfere  with  her 

work.    But  we^were  always  trying  to  make  time  to  read  them;  and 

she  permitted  this,  perhaps  in  order  to  stop  herself  from  thinking 

of  the  great  trials  she  suffered,  and  to  keep  her  children  occupied 

so  that  in  other  respects  they  should  not  go  astray.  This  annoyed 

my  father  so  much  that  we  had  to  be  careful  lest  he  should  see 

us  reading  these  books.   For  myself,  I  began  to  make  a  habit  of 

it,  and  this  little  fault  which  I  saw  in  my  mother  began  to  cool 

my  good   desires   and  lead  me  to  other  kinds  of  wrongdoing. 

I  thought  there  was  nothing  wrong  in  my  wasting  many  hours, 

by  day  'and  by  night,  in  this  useless  occupation,  even  though  I 

had  to  hide  it  from  my  father.   So  excessively  was  I  absorbed  in 

it  that  I  believe,  unless  I  had  a  new  book,  I  was  never  happy. 

I  began  to  deck  myself  out  and  to  try  to  attract  others  by  my 

appearance,   taking   great   trouble  with  my   hands   and   hair, 

using  perfumes  and  all  the  vanities  I  could  get — and  there  were 

a  good  many  of  them,  for  I  was  very  fastidious.    There  was 

nothing  wrong  with  my  intentions,  for  I  should  never  have  wanted 

anyone  to  offend  God  because  of  me.    This  great  and  excessive 

fastidiousness  about  personal  appearance,  together  with  other 

practices  which  I  thought  were  in  no  way  sinful,  lasted  for  many 

years:  I  see  now  how  wrong  they  must  have  been.    I  had  some 

cousins,  who  were  the  only  people  allowed  to  enter  my  father's 

house:1  he  was  very  careful  about  this  and  I  wish  to  God  that 

he  had  been  careful  about  my  cousins  too.   For  I  now  see  the 

danger  of  intercourse,  at  an  age  when  the  virtues  should  be 

beginning  to  grow,  with  persons  who,  though  ignorant  of  worldly 

vanity,  arouse  a  desire  for  the  world  in  others.    These  cousins 

were  almost  exactly  of  my  own  age  or  a  little  older  than  I.   We 

always  went  about  together;  they  were  very  fond  of  me;  and  I 

would  keep  our  conversation  on  things  that  amused  them  and 

listen  to  the  stories  they  told  about  their  childish  escapades  and 

crazes,  which  were  anything  but  edifying.   What  was  worse,  my 

soul  began  to  incline  to  the  thing  that  was  the  cause  of  all  its 

trouble. 

If  I  had  to  advise  parents,  I  should  tell  them  to  take  great 
care  about  the  people  with  whom  their  children  associate  at 

1  Don  Alonso's  brother,  Don  Francisco,  had  a  house  near  his  own,  in  the  Plazuela  de 
Santo  Domingo,  "where  the  seventeenth-century  Discalced  Carmelite  monastery 
now  stands.  The  cousins  referred  to  were  no  doubt  Don  Francisco's  children :  he  had 
at  least  four  sons,  as  well  as  several  daughters. 


14  LIFE  [CHAP. 

such  an  age.  Much  harm  may  result  from  bad  company  and  we 
are  inclined  by  nature  to  follow  what  is  worse  rather  than  what 
is  better.  This  was  the  case  with  me :  I  had  a  sister  much  older 
than  myself,1  from  whom,  though  she  was  very  good  and  chaste, 
I  learned  nothing,  whereas  from  a  relative  whom  we  often  had 
in  the  house  I  learned  every  kind  of  evil.  This  person  was  so 
frivolous  in  her  conversation  that  my  mother  had  tried  very 
hard  to  prevent  her  from  coming  to  the  house,  realizing  what 
harm  she  might  do  me,  but  there  were  so  many  reasons  for  her 
coming  that  she  was  powerless.  I  became  very  fond  of  meeting 
this  woman.  I  talked  and  gossiped  with  her  frequently;  she 
joined  me  in  all  my  favourite  pastimes;  and  she  also  introduced 
me  to  other  pastimes  and  talked  to  me  about  all  her  conversations 
and  vanities.  Until  I  knew  her  (this  was  when  I  was  about 
fourteen  or  perhaps  more:  by  knowing  her  I  mean  becoming 
friendly  with  her  and  receiving  her  confidences)  I  do  not  think 
I  had  ever  forsaken  God  by  committing  any  mortal  sin,  or  lost 
my  fear  of  God,  though  I  was  much  more  concerned  about  my 
honour.2  This  last  fear  was  strong  enough  to  prevent  me  from 
forfeiting  my  honour  altogether,  and  I  cannot  think  that  I  would 
have  acted  differently  about  this  for  anything  in  the  world; 
nor  was  there  anyone  in  the  world  whom  I  loved  enough  to 
forfeit  my  honour  for.  So  I  might  have  had  the  strength 
not  to  sin  against  the  honour  of  God,  as  my  natural  inclination 
led  me  not  to  go  astray  in  anything  which  I  thought  concerned 
worldly  honour,  and  I  did  not  realize  that  I  was  forfeiting  my 
honour  in  many  other  ways. 

I  went  to  great  extremes  in  my  vain  anxiety  about  this,  though 
I  took  not  the  slightest  trouble  about  what  I  must  do  to  live  a 
truly  honourable  life.  All  that  I  was  seriously  concerned  about 
was  that  I  should  not  be  lost  altogether.  My  father  and  sister 
were  very  sorry  about  this  friendship  of  mine  and  often  reproved 
me  for  it.  But,  as  they  could  not  prevent  my  friend  from  coming 
to  the  house,  their  efforts  were  of  no  avail,  for  when  it  came  to 
doing  anything  wrong  I  was  very  clever.  I  am  sometimes 
astonished  at  the  harm  which  can  be  caused  by  bad  company; 
if  I  had  not  experienced  it  I  could  not  believe  it.  This  is  especially 
so  when  one  is  young,  for  it  is  then  that  the  evil  done  is  greatest. 
I  wish  parents  would  be  warned  by  me  and  consider  this  very 
carefully.  The  result  of  my  intercourse  with  this  woman  was  to 

1  This  was  her  half-sister,  Dona  Maria,  her  father's  only  daughter  by  his  first  wife. 

2  [The  word  konra,  which  St.  Teresa  uses  in  various  senses — good,  bad  and  neutral — 
I  often  render  " reputation "  or  "good  name",  but  in  this  context — i  e.,  of  a  girl  of 
St.  Teresa's  age,  living  in  the  Spain  of  her  day — the  translation  "honour"  does  not 
seem  too  strong:  indeed,  the  contrast  which  she  makes  between  the  two  kinds  of 
honra  almost  necessitates  it] 


II]  LIFE  15 

change  me  so  much  that  I  lost  nearly  all  my  soul's  natural 
inclination  to  virtue,  and  was  greatly  influenced  by  her,  and  by 
another  person  who  indulged  in  the  same  kinds  of  pastime. 

From  this  I  have  learned  what  great  advantage  comes  from 
good  companionship;  and  I  am  sure  that  if  at  that  age  I  had 
been  friendly  with  good  people  I  should  have  remained  sound 
in  virtue.  For,  if  at  that  time  I  had  had  anyone  to  teach  me  to 
fear  God,  my  soul  would  have  grown  strong  enough  not  to  fall. 
Later,  when  the  fear  of  God  had  entirely  left  me,  I  retained 
only  this  concern  about  my  honour,  which  was  a  torture  to  me  in 
everything  that  I  did.  When  I  thought  that  nobody  would  ever 
know,  I  was  rash  enough  to  do  many  things  which  were  an 
offence  both  to  my  honour  and  to  God. 

At  first,  I  believe,  these  things  did  me  harm.  The  fault,  I 
think,  was  not  my  friend's  but  my  own.  For  subsequently  my 
own  wickedness  sufficed  to  lead  me  into  sin,  together  with  the 
servants  we  had,  whom  I  found  quite  ready  to  encourage  rne  in 
all  kinds  of  wrongdoing.  Perhaps,  if  any  of  them  had  given  me 
good  advice,  I  might  have  profited  by  it;  but  they  were  as  much 
blinded  by  their  own  interests  as  I  was  by  desire.  And  yet  I 
never  felt  the  inclination  to  do  much  that  was  wrong,  for  I  had  a 
natural  detestation  of  everything  immodest  and  preferred  passing 
the  time  tin  good  company.  But,  if  an  occasion  of  sin  presented 
itself,  the  danger  would  be  at  hand  and  I  should  be  exposing 
my  father  and  brothers  to  it.  From  all  this  God  delivered  me, 
in  such  a  way  that,  even  against  my  own  will,  He  seems  to  have 
contrived  that  I  should  not  be  lost,  though  this  was  not  to  come  about 
so  secretly  as  to  prevent  me  from  gravely  damaging  my  reputation 
and  arousing  suspicions  in  my  father.  I  could  hardly  have  been 
following  these  vanities  for  three  months  when  I  was  taken  to  a 
convent  in  the  place  where  I  lived,1  in  which  children  like  myself, 
though  less  depraved  in  their  habits  than  I,  were  being  educated, 
The  reason  for  this  was-  so  carefully  concealed  that  only  one  or 
two  of  my  relatives  and  myself  were  aware  of  it.  They  had 
waited  for  an  occasion  to  arise  naturally;  and  now,  as  my  sister 
had  married,  and  I  had  no  mother,  I  should  have  been  alone  in 
the  house  if  I  had  not  gone  there,  which  would  not  have  been 
fitting. 

So  excessive  was  my  father's  love  for  me,  and  so  complete  was 
the  deception  which  I  practised  on  him,  that  he  could  never 
believe  all  the  ill  of  me  that  I  deserved  and  thus  I  never  fell  into 
disgrace  with  him.  It  had  not  been  going  on  for  long;  and, 

1  This  was  the  Augustinian  convent  of  Our  Lady  of  Grace,  a  foundation  some 
twenty  years  old  situated  outside  the  city  walls,  which  took  girls  from  good  families 
as  boarders. 


1  6  LIFE  [CHAP. 

although  they  had  some  idea  of  what  I  had  been  doing,  nothing 
could  have  been  said  about  it  with  any  certainty.  As  I  had  such 
concern  for  my  good  name/  I  had  made  the  greatest  efforts  to 
keep  it  all  secret,  and  I  had  not  considered  that  it  could  not 
be  kept  secret  from  Him  Who  sees  all  things.  O  my  God,  what 
harm  is  done  in  the  world  by  forgetfulness  of  this  and  by  the 
belief  that  anything  can  be  kept  secret  which  is  done  against 
Thee!  I  am  sure  that  much  wrongdoing  would  be  avoided  if  we 
realized  that  our  business  is  to  be  on  our  guard,  not  against  men, 
but  against  displeasing  Thee. 

For  the  first  week  I  suffered  a  great  deal,  though  not  so  much 
from  being  in  a  convent  as  from  the  suspicion  that  everyone 
knew  about  my  vanity.  For  I  had  already  become  tired  of  the  life 
I  had  been  leading;  and  even  when  I  offended  God  I  never  ceased 
to  be  sorely  afraid  of  Him  and  I  tried  to  make  my  confessions 
as  soon  as  possible  after  falling  into  sin.  At  first  I  was  very  restless; 
but  within  a  week,  perhaps  even  earlier,  I  was  much  happier  than 
I  had  been  in  my  father's  house.  All  the  nuns  were  pleased  with 
me;  for  the  Lord  had  given  me  grace,  wherever  I  was,  to  please 
people,  and  so  I  became  a  great  favourite.  Although  at  that  time 
I  had  the  greatest  possible  aversion  from  being  a  nun,  I  was  very 
pleased  to  see  nuns  who  were  so  good;  for  in  that  house  they  were 
all  very  good  —  completely  blameless  in  their  lives,  devoted  to 
their  Rule  and  prudent  in  their  behaviour.  Yet  in  spite  of  this  the 
devil  did  not  cease  tempting  me  and  my  friends  outside  tried  to 
unsettle  me  by  sending  me  messages.  As  that  was  not  allowed, 
it  soon  came  to  an  end,  and  my  soul  then  began  to  return  to  the 
good  habits  of  my  earlier  childhood  and  I  realized  what  a  great 
favour  God  does  to  those  whom  He  places  in  the  company  of 
good  people.  It  seems  as  if  His  Majesty  was  trying  and  trying 
again  to  find  a  way  of  bringing  me  back  to  Himself.  Blessed  be 
Thou,  Lord,  Who  for  so  long  h'ast  suffered  me!  Amen. 

If  my  faults  had  not  been  so  numerous,  there  is  one  thing 
which  I  think  might  have  served  as  an  excuse  for  them:  that  my 
intimacy  with  this  person  was  of  such  a  kind  that  I  thought  it 
might  end  satisfactorily  on  her  marriage;2  and  both  my  con- 
fessor and  other  persons  told  me  that  in  many  respects  I  was  not 


»[J 

8  [St.  Teresa's  reference  to  this  intimacy  is  so  delicately  vague  that  it  is  difficult 
for  the  translator  not  to  express  more  /than  she  actually  says.  The  interpretation 
here  given  to  her  words  I  have  decided  upon  after  some  hesitation.  Dissenting 
readers  may  choose  between  P.  Gre"goire's  "II  s'agissait  de  relations  qui  semblaient 
pouvoir  aboutir  £  une  alliance  honorable  pour  moi",  and  Lewis's  "The  conversation 
I  shared  in  was  with  one  who,  I  thought,  would  do  well  in  the  estate  of  matrimony", 
the  editor's  footnote  tnferring^that  St.  Teresa  had  "  listened  only  to  the  story  of  her 
cousin's  intended  marriage".  In  default  of  other  information  I  take  the  meaning 
to  be  that,  as  this  woman  was  of  marriageable  (i  e.,  mature)  age,  the  writer  assumed 


II]  LIFE  17 

offending  God.  There  was  a  nun  who  slept  with  those  of  us  who 
were  seculars  and  it  was  through  her  that  the  Lord  seems  to  have 
been  pleased  to  begin  to  give  me  light,  as  I  shall  now  explain. 


CHAPTER  III 

Describes  how  good  companionship  helped  to  awaken  desires  in  her  and  the 
way  in  which  the  Lord  began  to  give  her  light  concerning  the  delusion 
under  which  she  had  been  suffering. 

As  I  began  to  enjoy  the  good  and  holy  conversation  of  this  nun, 
I  grew  to  delight  in  listening  to  her,  for  she  spoke  well  about  God 
and  was  very  discreet  and  holy.  There  was  never  a  time,  I  think, 
when  I  did  not  delight  in  listening  to  her  words.  She  began  to 
tell  me  how  she  had  come  to  be  a  nun  through  merely  reading 
those  words  in  the  Gospel:  Many  are  called  but  few  chosen.1 
She  used  to  describe  to  me  the  reward  which  the  Lord  gives  to 
those  who  leave  everything  for  His  sake.  This  good  companion- 
ship began  to  eradicate  the  habits  which  bad  companionship  had 
formed  in  me,  to  bring  back  my  thoughts  to  desires  for  eternal 
things,  and  to  remove  some  of  the  great  dislike  which  I  had  for 
being  a  nun,  and  which  had  become  deeply  engrained  in  me.  If 
I  saw  anyone  weeping  as  she  prayed,  or  giving  evidence  of  any 
other  virtues,  I  now  greatly  envied  her;  for  my  heart  was  so  hard 
in  this  respect  that,  even  if  I  read  the  entire  narrative  of  the 
Passion,  I  could  not  shed  a  tear;  and  this  distressed  me. 

I  remained  in  this  convent  for  a  year  and  a  half,  and  was  much 
the  better  for  it.  I  began  to  say  a  great  many  vocal  prayers  and 
to  get  all  the  nuns  to  commend  me  to  God  and  pray  that  He 
would  bring  me  to  the  state  in  which  I  was  to  serve  Him.  But 
I  was  still  anxious  not  to  be  a  nun,  for  God  had  not  as  yet  been 
pleased  to  give  me  this  desire,  although  I  was  also  afraid  of  marri- 
age. By  the  end  of  my  time  there,  I  was  much  more  reconciled  to 
being  a  nun — though  not  in  that  house,  because  of  the  very 
virtuous  practices  which  I  had  come  to  hear  that  they  observed 
and  which  seemed  to  me  altogether  excessive.  There  were  a  few 
of  the  younger  ones  who  encouraged  me  in  this  feeling;  if  all  the 
nuns  had  been  of  one  opinion,  it  would  have  been  much  better 


that  she  would  soon  marry  and  their  intimacy  would  come  to  an  end :  all  would  then 
be  well  that  ended  well.  This  seems  a  much  more  natural  interpretation  than  one 
which  represents  St.  Teresa  as  predicting  her  own  marriage.] 
1  St.  Matthew  xx,  16. 


i8  LIFE  [CHAP. 

for  me.  I  also  had  a  close  friend  in  another  convent,1  and  this  gave 
me  the  idea  that,  if  I  was  to  be  a  nun,  I  would  go  only  to  the  house 
where  she  was.  I  thought  more  about  pleasures  of  sense  and  vanity 
than  of  my  soul's  profit.  These  good  thoughts  about  being  a  nun 
came  to  me  from  time  to  time  but  they  soon  left  me  and  I  could 
not  persuade  myself  to  become  one. 

At  this  time,  though  I  was  not  careless  about  my  own  im- 
provement, the  Lord  became  more  desirous  of  preparing  me  for 
the  state  of  life  which  was  best  for  me.  He  sent  me  a  serious 
illness,  which  forced  me  to  return  to  my  father's  house.  When 
I  got  better,  they  took  me  to  see  my  sister,  who  was  living  in  a 
village.2  She  was  so  fond  of  me  that,  if  she  had  had  her  way, 
I  should  never  have  left  her.  Her  husband  was  also  very  fond  of 
me — at  least,  he  showed  me  every  kindness.  This,  too,  I  owe 
chiefly  to  the  Lord,  for  I  have  always  been  well  treated  every- 
where, and  yet  the  only  service  I  have  rendered  Him  is  to  be 
what  I  am. 

On  the  road  leading  to  my  sister's  lived  one  of  my  father's 
brothers,3  a  widower,  who  was  a  very  shrewd  man  and  full  of 
virtues.  Him,  too,  the  Lord  was  preparing  for  Himself:  in  his  old 
age  he  gave  up  all  that  he  had  and  became  a  friar,  and  he  ended 
his  life  in  such  a  w'ay  that  I  believe  he  is  now  rejoicing  in  God.  He 
wanted  me  to  stay  with  him  for  some  days.  It  was  his  practice 
to  read  good  books  in  Spanish  and  his  conversation  was  ordinarily 
about  God  and  the  vanity  of  the  world.  He  made  me  read  to 
him;  and,  although  I  did  not  much  care  for  his  books,  I  acted  as 
though  I  did;  for  in  the  matter  of  pleasing  others,  even  when  I 
disliked  doing  it,  I  have  been  so  excessively  complacent,  that  in 
others  it  would  have  been  a  virtue,  though  in  me  it  was  a  great 
fault  because  I  was  often  very  indiscreet.  O  God,  in  how  many 
ways  did  His  Majesty  gradually  prepare  me  for  the  state  in  which 
He  was  to  be  pleased  to  use  me!  In  how  many  ways,  against  my 
own  will,  did  He  constrain  me  to  exercise  restraint  upon  myself!4 
May  He  be  blessed  for  ever.  Amen. 

Though  I  stayed  here  for  only  a  few  days,  such  was  the  im- 
pression made  on  my  heart  by  the  words  of  God,  both  as  read 
and  as  heard,  and  the  excellence  of  my  uncle's  company,  that  I 
began  to  understand  the  truth,  which  I  had  learned  as  a  child, 
that  all  things  are  nothing,  and  that  the  world  is  vanity  and  will 
soon  pass  away.  I  began  to  fear  that,  if  I  had  died  of  my  illness, 

1  Dona  Juana  Suarez,  a  nun  in  the  Convent  of  the  Incarnation  at  Avila,  where 
St.  Teresa  afterwards  professed. 

2  [Dona  Maria,  living  at  Gastellanos  de  la  Canada.  Cf.  p  22,  n.  i,  below J 
8  [Cf.  p.  23,  n.  i,  below.] 

*  [Lit.:  "did  He  force  me  to  exercise  force  upon  myself."  The  play  upon  words 
cannot  be  fully  brought  out  by  any  satisfactory  translation.] 


Ill]  LIFE  ig 

I  should  have  gone  to  hell;  and  though,  even  then,  I  could  not 
incline  my  will  to  being  a  nun,  I  saw  that  this  was  the  best  and 
safest  state,  and  so,  little  by  little,  I  determined  to  force  myself  to 
embrace  it. 

This  conflict  lasted  for  three  months.  I  used  to  try  to  convince 
myself  by  using  the  following  argument.  The  trials  and  distresses 
of  being  a  nun  could  not  be  greater  than  those  of  purgatory  and 
I  had  fully  deserved  to  be  in  hell.  It  would  not  be  a  great  matter 
to  spend  my  life  as  though  I  were  in  purgatory  if  afterwards 
I  were  to  go  straight  to  Heaven,  which  was  what  I  desired.  This 
decision,  then,  to  enter  the  religious  life  seems  to  have  been 
inspired  by  servile  fear  more  than  by  love.  The  devil  suggested  to 
me  that  I  could  not  endure  the  trials  of  the  religious  life  as  I  had 
been  so  delicately  brought  up.  This  suggestion  I  met  by  telling 
him  about  the  trials  suffered  by  Christ  and  saying  that  it  would  not 
be  too  much  for  me  to  suffer  a  few  for  His  sake.  I  must  have 
thought  that  He  would  help  me  to  bear  them  but  that  I  cannot 
remember.  I  had  many  temptations  in  those  days. 

I  had  now  begun  to  suffer  from  serious  fainting  fits,  together 
with  fever;  my  health  has  always  been  poor.  The  fact  that  I  had 
now  become  fond  of  good  books  gave  me  new  life.  I  would  read 
the  epistles  of  Saint  Jerome;1  and  these  inspired  me  with  such 
courage  that  I  determined  to  tell  my  father  of  my  decision,  which 
was  going  almost  as  far  as  taking  the  habit;  for  my  word  of  honour 
meant  so  much  to  me  that  I  doubt  if  any  reason  would  have 
sufficed  to  turn  me  back  from  a  thing  when  I  had  once  said  I 
would  do  it.  He  was  so  fond  of  me  that  I  was  never  able  to  get 
his  consent,  nor  did  the  requests  of  persons  whom  I  asked  to  speak 
with  him  about  it  succeed  in  doing  so.  The  most  I  could  obtain  from 
him  was  permission  to  do  as  I  liked  after  his  death.  As  I  distrusted 
myself  and  thought  I  might  turn  back  out  of  weakness,  this  course 
seemed  an  unsuitable  one.  So  I  achieved  my  aim  in  another  way, 
as  I  shall  now  explain. 

XA  Spanish  translation  of  these,  by  Juan  de  Molina,  had  been  published  at 
Valencia,  in  1520. 


20  LIFE  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Describes  how  the  Lord  helped  her  to  force  herself  to  take  the  habit  and  tells 
oj  the  numerous  infirmities  which  His  Majesty  began  to  send  her. 

During  this  time,  when  I  was  considering  these  resolutions,  I 
had  persuaded  one  of  my  brothers,  by  talking  to  him  about  the 
vanity  of  the  world,  to  become  a  friar,1  and  we  agreed  to  set  out 
together,  very  early  one  morning,  for  the  convent  where  that  friend 
of  mine  lived  of  whom  I  was  so  fond.  In  making  my  final  decision, 
I  had  already  resolved  that  I  would  go  to  any  other  convent  in 
which  I  thought  I  could  serve  God  better  or  which  my  father 
might  wish  me  to  enter,  for  by  now  I  was  concerned  chiefly  with 
the  good  of  my  soul  and  cared  nothing  for  my  comfort.  I  re- 
member— and  I  really  believe  this  is  true — that  when  I  left  my 
father's  house  my  distress  was  so  great  that  I  do  not  think  it  will  be 
greater  when  I  die.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  every  bone  in  my  body 
were  being  wrenched  asunder;  for,  as  I  had  no  love  of  God  to 
subdue  my  love  for  my  father  and  kinsfolk,  everything  was  such 
a  strain  to  me  that,  if  the  Lord  had  not  helped  me,  no  reflections 
of  my  own  would  have  sufficed  to  keep  me  true  to  my  purpose. 
But  the  Lord  gave  me  courage  to  fight  against  myself  and  so  I 
carried  out  my  intention. 

When  I  took  the  habit,2  the  Lord  at  once  showed  me  how 
great  are  His  favours  to  those  who  use  force  with  themselves  in 
His  service.  No  one  realized  that  I  had  gone  through  all  this; 
they  all  thought  I  had  acted  out  of  sheer  desire.  At  the  time 
my  entrance  into  this  new  life  gave  me  a  joy  so  great  that  it  has 
never  failed  me  even  to  this  day,  and  God  converted  the  aridity 
of  my  soul  into  the  deepest  tenderness.  Everything  connected 
with  the  religious  life  caused  me  delight;  and  it  is  a  fact  that 
sometimes,  when  I  was  spending  time  in  sweeping  floors  which 

1  Her  younger  brother  Antonio,  who  became  a  Dominican,  and  later  a  Hieronymite. 
Then  ill  health  compelled  him  to  return  to  the  world  and  he  died  in  the  Indies,  in 

1546. 

•  a  The  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila,  is  situated  on  the  north  side  of  the  city, 
outside  the  walls.  It  had  been  founded  in  1479,  as  a  residence  for  ladies  who  were 
members  of  the  Third  Order  of  Carmel  but  later  it  was  converted  into  a  convent 
»  with  the  title  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Incarnation.  As  to  the  date  of  her  entry  into  the 
Convent,  there  has  been  a  great  deal  of  doubt,  but  documents  [published  by  P. 
Silveno  m  his  appendices]  appear  to  have  established  that  she  took  the  habit  on 
November  a,  1536,  and  made  her  solemn  profession  on  November  3,  1537,  at  the  ages 
of  twenty-one  and  twenty-two  respectively.  [Previously  Ribera's  dates  of  1535  and 
1536  had  been  generally  accepted,  though  there  was  also  evidence  in  favour  of  1533 
and  1534].  Cf.  Relation  IV  (p.  319,  below) :  "It  is  forty  years  since  this  nun  took 
the  habit."  This  was  written  in  1576. 


IV]  LIFE  21 

I  had  previously  spent  on  my  own  indulgence  and  adornment,  and 
realized  that  I  was  now  free  from  all  those  things,  there  came  to 
me  a  new  joy,  which  amazed  me,  for  I  could  not  understand 
whence  it  arose.  Whenever  I  recall  this,  there  is  nothing,  however 
hard,  which  I  would  hesitate  to  undertake  if  it  were  proposed  to 
me.  For  I  know  now,  by  experience  of  many  kinds,  that  if  I 
strengthen  my  purpose  by  resolving  to  do  a  thing  for  God's  sake 
alone,  it  is  His  will  that,  from  the  very  beginning,  my  soul  shall 
be  afraid,  so  that  my  merit  may  be  the  greater;  and  if  I  achieve 
my  resolve,  the  greater  my  fear  has  been,  the  greater  will  be  my 
reward,  and  the  greater,  too,  will  be  my  retrospective  pleasure. 
Even  in  this  life  His  Majesty  rewards  such  an  act  in  ways  that  can 
be  understood  only  by  one  who  has  enjoyed  them.  This  I  know  by 
experience,  as  I  have  said,  in  many  very  serious  matters;  and  so, 
if  I  were  a  person  who  had  to  advise  others,  I  would  never  recom- 
mend anyone,  when  a  good  inspiration  comes  to  him  again  and 
again,  to  hesitate  to  put  it  into  practice  because  of  fear;  for,  if  one 
lives  a  life  of  detachment  for  God's  sake  alone,  there  is  no  reason 
to  be  afraid  that  things  will  turn  out  amiss,  since  He  is  all-power- 
ful. May  He  be  blessed  for  ever.  Amen. 

O  Supreme  Good!  O  my  Rest!  The  favours  which  Thou 
hadst  given  me  until  now  should  have  sufficed  me,  since  by  Thy 
compassion  and  greatness  I  had  been  brought,  along  so  many 
devious  ways,  to  a  state  so  secure  and  to  a  house  in  which  there 
were  so  many  servants  of  God  from  whom  I  might  take  example 
and  thus  learn  to  grow  in  Thy  service.  When  I  remember  the  way 
I  made  my  profession  and  the  great  determination  and  satisfaction 
with  which  I  made  it  and  the  betrothal  that  I  contracted  with 
Thee,  I  do  not  know  how  to  proceed  any  farther  with  my  story. 
I  cannot  speak  of  this  without  tears,  and  they  ought  to  be  tears  of 
blood,  and  my  heart  ought  to  break,  and  even  that  would  be 
showing  no  great  sorrow  for  the  offences  which  I  afterwards 
committed  against  Thee.  It  seems  to  me  now  that  I  was  right  not 
to  wish  for  so  great  an  honour,  since  I  was  to  make  such  bad  use 
of  it.  But  Thou,  my  Lord,  wert  prepared  to  be  offended  by  me 
for  almost  twenty  years,  during  which  time  I  made  ill  use  of  Thy 
favour,  so  that  in  the  end  I  might  become  better.  It  would  seem, 
my  God,  as  if  I  had  promised  to  break  all  the  promises  I  had 
made  Thee,  although  at  the  time  that  was  not  my  intention.  When 
I  look  back  on  these  actions  of  mine,  I  do  not  know  what  my 
intention  could  have  been.  All  this,  my  Spouse,  reveals  still  more 
clearly  the  difference  between  Thy  nature  and  mine.  Certainly 
distress  for  my  great  sins  is  often  tempered  by  the  joy  which 
comes  to  me  at  being  the  means  of  making  known  the  multitude 
of  Thy  mercies. 


22  LIFE  [CHAP. 

In  whom,  Lord,  can  they  shine  forth  as  in  me,  who  with 
my  evil  deeds  have  thus  obscured  the  great  favours  which  Thou 
hadst  begun  to  show  me?  Alas,  my  Creator!  If  I  would  make  an 
excuse,  I  have  none,  and  none  is  to  blame  but  I.  For,  had  I 
repaid  Thee  any  part  of  the  love  which  Thou  hadst  begun  to  show 
me,  I  could  have  bestowed  it  on  none  but  Thyself;  and  had  I  but 
done  this,  everything  would  have  been  set  right.  But  as  I  have 
not  deserved  this,  nor  had  such  good  fortune,  may  Thy  mercy, 
Lord,  be  availing  for  me. 

The  change  in  my  life,  and  in  my  diet,  affected  my  health; 
and,  though  my  happiness  was  great,  it  was  not  sufficient  to  cure 
me.  My  fainting-fits  began  to  increase  in  number  and  I  suffered 
so  much  from  heart  trouble  that  everyone  who  saw  me  was 
alarmed.  I  also  had  many  other  ailments.  I  spent  my  first  year, 
therefore,  in  a  very  poor  state  of  health,  though  I  do  not  think 
I  offended  God  very  much  during  that  time.  My  condition 
became  so  serious— rfor  I  hardly  ever  seemed  to  be  fully  conscious, 
and  sometimes  I  lost  consciousness  altogether — that  my  father 
made  great  efforts  to  find  me  a  cure.  As  our  own  doctors  could 
suggest  none,  he  arranged  for  me  to  be  taken  to  a  place  where 
they  had  a  great  reputation  for  curing  other  kinds  of  illness  and 
said  they  could  also  cure  mine.  This  friend  whom  I  have 
spoken  of  as  being  in  the  house,  and  who  was  one  of  the  seniors 
among  the  sisters,  went  with  me.  In  the  house  where  I  was  a 
nun,  we  did  not  have  to  make  a  vow  of  enclosure.  I  was  there  for 
nearly  a  year,  and  during  three  months  of  that  time  I  suffered 
the  greatest  tortures  from  the  drastic  remedies  which  they  applied 
to  me.  I  do  not  know  how  I  managed  to  endure  them;  and  in 
fact,  though  I  did  endure  them,  my  constitution  was  unable  to 
stand  them,  as  I  shall  explain.  My  treatment  was  to  commence 
at  the  beginning  of  the  summer  and  I  had  left  the  convent  when 
the  winter  began.  All  the  intervening  time  I  spent  in  the  house 
of  the  sister  whom  I  referred  to  above  as  living  in  a  village,  waiting 
for  the  month  of  April,  which  was  near  at  hand,  so  that  I  should 
not  have  to  go  and  come  back  again.1 

1  [This  last  phrase  has  puzzled  the  commentators.  I  take  the  meaning  to  be  that 
St.  Teresa  went  to  stay  with  her  sister,  Dona  Maria,  who  had  married  a  certain  Don 
Martin  de  Guzman  y  Barrientos,  in  the  late  autumn  ("when  the  winter  began" — but  it 
begins  early  on  the  Casuhan  plateau),  was  under  the  supervision  of  the  curandera, 
who  lived  near  the  sister,  during  the  winter,  and  went  to  live  with  her,  to  take  the 
intensive  and  painful  course  of  treatment  referred  to  in  the  text,  in  the  following 
April,  staying  till  July.  It  was  presumably  on  a  first  visit  to  the  curandera,  made  for 
the  purpose  of  a  consultation,  that  St.  Teresa  was  accompanied  by  the  older 
nun.  But  Becedas,  where  the  curandera  lived,  was  over  forty  miles  from  Avila, 
whereas  Dona  Maria's  village  of  Castellanos  de  la  Canada  was  quite  near 
Becedas,  so  that  by  going  to  stay  with  her  sister  she  saved  herself  long  journeys 
during  the  winter.  TTbis  interpretation  seems  to  me  the  only  one  which  fits  all 
the  facts.] 


IV]  LIFE  23 

On  the  way  there,  I  stopped  at  the  house  of  this  uncle  of  mine, 
which,  as  I  have  said,  was  on  the  road,  and  he  gave  me  a  book 
called  Third  Alphabet,  which  treats  of  the  Prayer  of  Recollection.1 
During  this  first  year  I  had  been  reading  good  books  (I  no  longer 
wanted  to  read  any  others,  for  I  now  realized  what  harm  they 
had  done  me)  but  I  did  not  know  how  to  practise  prayer,  or  how 
to  recollect  myself,  and  so  I  was  delighted  with  the  book  and 
determined  to  follow  that  way  of  prayer  with  all  my  might.  As 
by  now  the  Lord  had  granted  me  the  gift  of  tears,  and  I  liked 
reading,  I  began  to  spend  periods  in  solitude,  to  go  frequently  to 
confession  and  to  start  upon  the  way  of  prayer  with  this  book  for 
my  guide.  For  I  found  no  other  guide  (no  confessor,  I  mean) 
who  understood  me,  though  I  sought  one  for  fully  twenty  years 
subsequently  to  the  time  I  am  speaking  of.  This  did  me  great 
harm,  as  I  had  frequent  relapses,  and  might  have  been  completely 
lost;  a  guide  would  at  least  have  helped  me  to  escape  when  I 
found  myself  running  the  risk  of  offending  God. 

In  these  early  days  His  Majesty  began  to  grant  me  so  many 
favours  that  at  the  end  of  this  entire  period  of  solitude,  which  lasted 
for  almost  nine  months,  although  I  was  not  so  free  from  offending 
God  as  the  book  said  one  should  be,  I  passed  over  that,  for  such 
great  care  seemed  to  me  almost  impossible.  I  was  particular  about 
not  committing  mortal  sin — and  would  to  God  I  had  always  been 
so!  But  about  venial  sins  I  troubled  very  little  and  it  was  this 
which  brought  about  my  fall.  Still,  the  Lord  began  to  be  so 
gracious  to  me  on  this  way  of  prayer  that  He  granted  me  vthe 
favour  of  leading  me  to  the  Prayer  of  Quiet,  and  occasionally 
even  to  Union,  though  I  did  not  understand  what  either  of  these 
was,  or  how  highly  they  were  to  be  valued.  Had  I  understood 
this  I  think  it  would  have  been  a  great  blessing.  It  is  true  that  my 
experience  of  Union  lasted  only  a  short  time;  I  am  not  sure  that 
it  can  have  been  for  as  long  as  an  Ave  Maria;  but  the  results  of  it 
were  so  considerable,  and  lasted  for  so  long  that,  although  at  this 
time  I  was  not  twenty  years  old,2  I  seemed  to  have  trampled  the 
world  beneath  my  feet,  and  I-t  remember  that  I  used  to  pity  those 
who  still  clung  to  it,  even  in  things  that  were  lawful.  I  used  to  try 
to  think  of  Jesus  Christ,  our  Good  and  our  Lord,  as  present  within 
me,  and  it  was  in  this  way  that  I  prayed.  If  I  thought  about  any 
incident  in  His  life,  I  would  imagine  it  inwardly,  though  I  liked 
principally  to  read  good  books,  and  this  constituted  the  whole  of 

1  The  uncle,  Don  Pedro,  lived  at  Hortigosa,  a  village  on  the  road  to  Gastellanos. 
.The  Discalced  Carmelite  community  of  St.  Joseph,  at  Avila,  still  preserves  the 
copy  of  Francisco  de  Osuna's  Third  Spiritual  Alphabet  [cf,  SS  M*y  I,  79-131]  here 
referred  to. 

*  [St.  Teresa  must  have  been  mistaken.  She  cannot  possibly  have  been  less  than 
twenty-three  and  was  probably  a  little  older.] 


24  LIFE  [CHAP. 

my  recreation.  For  God  had  not  given  me  talents  for  reasoning 
with  the  understanding  or  for  making  good  use  of  the  imagination : 
my  imagination  is  so  poor  that,  even  when  I  thought  about 
the  Lord's  Humanity,  or  tried  to  imagine  it  to  myself,  as  I  was 
in  the  habit  of  doing,  I  never  succeeded.  And  although,  if  they 
persevere,  people  may  attain  more  quickly  to  contemplation  by 
following  this  method  of  not  labouring  with  the  understanding, 
it  is  a  very  troublesome  and  painful  process.  For  if  the  will  has 
nothing  to  employ  it  and  love  has  no  present  object  with  which 
to  busy  itself,  the  soul  finds  itself  without  either  support  or  occu- 
pation, its  solitude  and  aridity  cause  it  great  distress  and  its 
thoughts  involve  it  in  the  severest  conflict. 

People  in  this  condition  need  greater  purity  of  conscience  than 
those  who  can  labour  with  the  understanding.  For  anyone 
meditating  on  the  nature  of  the  world,  on  his  duties  to  God,  on 
God's  great  sufferings  and  on  what  he  himself  is  giving  to  Him 
Who  loves  him,  will  find  in  his  meditations  instruction  for  de- 
fending himself  against  his  thoughts  and  against  perils  and 
occasions  of  sin.  Anyone  unable  to  make  use  of  this  method  is  in 
much  greater  danger  and  should  occupy  himself  frequently  in 
reading,  since  he  cannot  find  instruction  in  any  other  way. 
And  inability  to  do  this  is  so  very  painful  that,  if  the  master  who 
is  directing  him  forbids  him  to  read  and  thus  find  help  for  re- 
collection, reading  is  none  the  less  necessary  for  him,  however 
little  it  may  be,  as  a  substitute  for  the  mental  prayer  which  he  is 
unable  to  practise.  I  mean  that  if  he  is  compelled  to  spend  a 
great  deal  of  time  in  prayer  without  this  aid  it  will  be  impossible 
for  him  to  persist  in  it  for  long,  and  if  he  does  so  it  will  endanger 
his  health,  since  it  is  a  very  painful  process. 

I  believe  now  that  it  was  through  the  Lord's  good  providence 
that  I  found  no  one  to  teach  me;  for,  had  I  done  so,  it  would  have 
been  impossible,  I  think,  for  me  to  persevere  during  the  eighteen 
years  for  which  I  had  to  bear  this  trial  and  these  great  aridities,  due, 
as  I  say,  to  my  being  unable  to  meditate.  During  all  these  years,- 
except  after  communicating,  I  never  dared  begin  to  pray  without 
a  book;  my  soul  was  as  much  afraid  to  engage  in  prayer  without 
one  as  if  it  were  having  to  go  and  fight  against  a  host  of  enemies. 
With  this  help,  which  was  a  companionship  to  me  and  a  shield 
with  which  I  could  parry  the  blows  of  my  many  thoughts,  I  felt 
comforted.  For  it  was  not  usual  with  me  to  suffer  from  aridity: 
this  only  came  when  I  had  no  book,  whereupon  my  soul  would  at 
once  become  disturbed  and  my  thoughts  would  begin  to  wander. 
As  soon  as  I  started  to  read  they  began  to  collect  themselves 
and  the  book  acted  like  a  bait  to  my  soul.  Often  the  mere  fact 
that  I  had  it  by  me  was  sufficient.  Sometimes  I  read  a  little, 


IV]  LIFE  25 

sometimes  a  great  deal,  according  to  the  favour  which  the  Lord 
showed  me.  It  seemed  to  me,  in  these  early  stages  of  which  I  am 
speaking,  that,  provided  I  had  books  and  could  be  alone,  there 
was  no  risk  of  my  being  deprived  of  that  great  blessing;  and  I 
believe  that,  by  the  help  of  God,  this  would  have  been  the  case  if 
at  the  beginning  I  had  had  a  master  or  some  other  person  to 
advise  me  how  to  flee  from  occasions  of  sin,  and,  if  I  fell  before 
them,  to  get  me  quickly  free  from  them.  If  at  that  time  the  devil 
had  attacked  me  openly,  I  believe  I  should  never  in  any  way 
have  begun  to  sin  grievously  again.  But  he  was  so  subtle,  and  I 
was  so  weak,  that  all  my  resolutions  were  of  little  profit  to  me, 
though,  in  the  days  when  I  served  God,  they  became  very  profit- 
able indeed,  in  that  they  enabled  me  to  bear  the  terrible  infirmities 
which  came  to  me  with  the  great  patience  given  me  by  His 
Majesty. 

I  have  often  reflected  with  amazement  upon  God's  great 
goodness  and  my  soul  has  delighted  in  the  thought  of  His  great 
magnificence  and  mercy.  May  He  be  blessed  for  all  this,  for  it 
has  become  clear  to  me  that,  even  in  this  life,  He  has  not  failed  to 
reward  me  for  any  of  my  good  desires.  However  wretched  and  im- 
perfect my  good  works  have  been,  this  Lord  of  mine  has  been 
improving  them,  perfecting  them  and  making  them  of  greater 
worth,  and  yet  hiding  my  evil  deeds  and  my  sins  as  soon  as  they 
have  been  committed.  He  has  even  allowed  the  eyes  of  those 
who  have  seen  them  to  be  blind  to  them  and  He  blots  them  from 
their  memory.  He  gilds  my  faults  and  makes  some  virtue  of 
mine  to  shine  forth  in  splendour;  yet  it  was  He  Himself  Who 
gave  it  me  and  almost  forced  me  to  possess  it. 

I  will  now  return  and  do  what  I  have  been  commanded.  I 
repeat  that,  if  I  had  to  describe  in  detail  the  way  in  which  the 
Lord  dealt  with  me  in  these  early  days,  I  should  need  much  more 
intelligence  than  I  have  so  as  to  be  able  to  appreciate  what  I 
owe  to  Him,  together  with  my  own  ingratitude  and  wickedness, 
all  of  which  I  have  forgotten.  May  He  be  for  ever  blesssed,  Who 
has  endured  me  for  so  long.  Amen. 


26  LIFE  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  V 

Continues  to  tell  of  the  grievous  infirmities  which  she  suffered  and  of  the 
patience  given  her  by  the  Lord,  and  of  how  He  brings  good  out  of 
evil,  as  will  be  seen  from  an  incident  which  happened  to  her  in  the 
place  where  she  went  for  treatment. 

I  forgot  to  tell  how,  in  the  year  of  my  novitiate,  I  suffered  long 
periods  of  unrest  about  things  which  in  themselves  were  of  little 
importance.  I  was  very  often  blamed  when  the  fault  was  not 
mine.  This  I  bore  very  imperfectly,  and  with  great  distress  of 
mind,  although  I  was  able  to  endure  it  all  because  of  my  great 
satisfaction  at  being  a  nun.  When  they  saw  me  endeavouring 
to  be  alone  and  sometimes  weeping  for  my  sins,  they  thought  that 
I  was  discontented  and  said  so.  I  was  fond  of  everything  to  do  with 
the  religious  life  but  I  could  not  bear  anything  which  seemed  to 
make  me  ridiculous.  I  delighted  in  being  thought  well  of;  I  was 
particular  about  everything  I  did;  and  all  this  I  thought  was  a 
virtue,  though  that  cannot  serve  me  as  an  excuse,  because  I 
knew  how  to  get  pleasure  for  myself  out  of  everything  and  so 
my  wrong-doing  cannot  be  excused  by  ignorance.  Some  excuse 
may  be  found  in  the  imperfect  organization  of  the  convent.  But 
I,  in  my  wickedness,  followed  what  I  knew  to  be  wrong  and 
neglected  what  was  good. 

At  that  time  there  was  a  nun  who  was  afflicted  by  a  most 
serious  and  painful  illness :  she  was  suffering  from  open  sores  in 
the  stomach,  which  had  been  caused  by  obstructions,  and  these 
forced  her  to  reject  all  her  food.  Of  this  illness  she  soon  died. 
I  saw  that  all  the  nuns  were  afraid  of  it  but  for  my  own  part  I  had 
only  great  envy  of  her  patience.  I  begged'  God  that  He  would 
send  me  any  illness  He  pleased  if  only  He  would  make  me  as 
patient  as  she.  I  do  not  think  I  was  in  the  least  afraid  of  being  ill, 
for  I  was  so  anxious  'to  win  eternal  blessings  that  I  was  resolved 
to  win  l^iem  by  any  means  whatsoever.  And  I  am  surprised  at 
this;  for,  although  I  had  not  then,  I  think,  such  love  for  God  as  I 
have  had  since  I  began  to  pray,  I  had  light  enough  to  realize 
how  trivial  is  the  value  of  all  things  that  pass  away  and  how  great 
is  the  worth  of  blessings  which  can  be  gained  by  despising  them, 
for  these  are  eternal.  Well,  His  Majesty  heard  my  prayer; 
for,  before  two  years  had  passed,  I  myself  had  an  illness  which, 
though  not  of  the  same  kind,  was,  I  think,  no  less  painful  and 
troublesome.  And  this  I  suffered  for  three  years,  as  I  shall  now 
relate. 


V]  LIFE  27 

When  the  time  had  come  which  I  was  awaiting  in  the  place 
where,  as  I  said,  I  was  staying  with  my  sister  before  undergoing 
my  treatment,  I  was  taken  away,  with  the  greatest  solicitude 
for  my  comfort,  by  my  father  and  sister  and  that  nun  who  was 
my  friend  and  had  accompanied  me  when  I  had  first  left  the  convent 
because  she  loved  me  so  dearly.  It  was  now  that  the  devil  began 
to  unsettle  my  soul,  although  God  turned  this  into  a  great  blessing. 
There  was  a  priest1  who  lived  in  the  place  where  I  had  gone  for 
the  treatment :  he  was  a  man  of  really  good  family  and  great 
intelligence,  and  also  of  some  learning,  though  not  a  great  deal. 
I  began  to  make  my  confessions  to  him,  for  I  have  always  been 
attracted  by  learning,  though  confessors  with  only  a  little  of  it 
have  done  my  soul  great  harm,  and  I  have  not  always  found  men 
who  had  as  much  of  it  as  I  should  have  liked.  I  have  discovered 
by  experience  that  if  they  are  virtuous  and  lead  holy  lives  it  is 
better  they  should  have  none  at  all  than  only  a  little;  for  then  they 
do  not  trust  themselves  (nor  would  I  myself  trust  them)  unless 
they  have  first  consulted  those  who  are  really  learned;  but  a 
truly  learned  man  has  never  led  me  astray.  Not  that  these  others 
can  have  meant  to  lead  me  astray:  it  is  simply  that  they  have 
known  no  better.  I  had  supposed  that  they  did  and  that  my  only 
obligation  was  to  believe  them,  as  they  spoke  to  me  in  a  very 
broad-minded  way  and  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  freedom :  if  they 
had  been  strict,  I  am  so  wicked  that  I  should  have  looked  for 
others.  What  in  reality  was  venial  sin,  they  would  tell  me  was 
no  sin  at  all;  and  the  most  grievous  of  mortal  sins  was  to  them  only 
venial.  This  did  me  such  harm  that  it  is  not  surprising  if  I  speak 
of  it  here  to  warn  others  against  so  great  an  evil,  for  I  see  clearly 
that  in  God's  sight  I  have  no  excuse;  the  fact  that  the  things  I  did 
were  themselves  not  good  should  have  been  sufficient  to  keep 
me  from  doing  them.  I  believe  God  permitted  these  confessors 
to  be  mistaken  and  lead  me  astray  because  of  my  own  sins.  I 
myself  led  many  others  astray  by  repeating  to  them  what  had 
been  told  me.  I  continued  in  this  state  of  blindness,  I  believe, 
for  more  than  seventeen  years,  until  a  Dominican  Father,2  who 
was  a  very  learned  man,  undeceived  me  about  certain  things, 
and  the  Fathers  of  the  Company  of  Jesus3  made  me  very  much 
afraid  about  my  whole  position  by  representing  to  me  the  gravity 
of  these  unsound  principles,  as  I  shall  explain  later. 

After  I  had  begun  to  make  my  confessions  to  this  priest  of  whom 
I  am  speaking,  he  took  an  extreme  liking  to  me,  for  at  that  time 

1  [Lit :  "a  person  of  the  Church",  but  the  context  makes  the  meaning  clear.] 

2  P.  Vicente  Barr6n,  a  theologian  of  repute,  -who  was  also  her  father's  confessor 

8  [Spanish  -writers  always  describe  the  Society  of  Jesus  as  the  "Company1*  and  that 
word  is  kept  throughout  this  translation.] 


28  LIFE  [CHAP. 

I  had  little  to  confess  by  comparison  with  what  I  had  later — 
I  had  not  really  had  much  ever  since  I  became  a  nun.  There  was 
nothing  wrong  in  his  affection  for  me,  but  it  ceased  to  be  good 
because  there  was  too  much  of  it.  He  realized  that  nothing 
whatever  would  induce  me  to  commit  any  grave  offence  against 
God  and  he  assured  me  that  it  was  the  same  with  him,  and  so 
we  talked  together  a  good  deal.  But  at  that  time,  full  of  love  for 
God  as  I  was,  my  greatest  delight  in  conversation  was  to  speak 
about  Him;  and,  as  I  was  such  a  child,  this  caused  him  confusion, 
and,  out  of  the  great  affection  that  he  had  for  me,  he  began  to 
tell  me  about  his  unhappy  condition.  It  was  no  small  matter: 
for  nearly  seven  years  he  had  been  in  a  most  perilous  state  because 
of  his  affection  for  a  woman  in  that  very  place,  with  whom  he 
had  had  a  good  deal  to  do.  Nevertheless,  he  continued  saying 
Mass.  The  fact  that  he  had  lost  his  honour  and  his  good  name 
was  quite  well  known,  yet  no  one  dared  to  reprove  him  for  it. 
I  was  sorry  for  him  because  I  liked  him  very  much :  at  that  time 
I  was  so  frivolous  and  blind  that  I  thought  it  a  virtue  to  be  grate- 
ful and  loyal  to  anyone  who  liked  me.  Cursed  be  such  loyalty 
when  it  goes  so  far  that  it  militates  against  loyalty  to  God !  This 
is  a  bewildering  folly  common  in  the  world  and  it  certainly 
bewilders  me.  For  we  owe  to  God  all  the  good  that  men  show  us, 
yet  we  consider  it  a  virtue  not  to  break  off  friendships  with  men 
even  if  they  cause  us  to  act  contrarily  to  His  will.  O  blindness  of 
the  world !  May  it  please  Thee,  Lord,  that  I  may  be  completely 
lacking  in  gratitude  to  the  whole  world  provided  that  in  no 
respect  I  lack  gratitude  to  Thee.  But  exactly  the  reverse  has  been 
true  of  me,  because  of  my  sins. 

I  got  to  know  more  about  this  priest  by  making  enquiries  of 
members  of  his  household.  I  then  realized  what  great  trouble 
the  poor  man  had  got  himself  into  and  found  that  it  was  not 
altogether  his  own  fault.  For  the  unhappy  woman  had  cast  a 
spell  over  him,  giving  him  a  little  copper  figure  and  begging  him, 
for  love  of  her,  to  wear  it  round  his  neck,  and  no  one  had  been 
able  to  persuade  him  to  take  it  off.  Now,  with  regard  to  this 
particular  incident  of  the  spell,  I  do  not  believe  there  is  the  least 
truth  in  it.  But  I  will  relate  what  I  saw,  in  order  to  warn  men  to 
be  on  their  guard  against  women  who  try  to  do  such  things  to 
them.  Let  them  be  sure  that,  if  women  (who  are  more  bound  to 
lead  chaste  lives  even  than  men)  lose  all  shame  in  the  sight  of 
God,  there  is  nothing  whatever  in  which  they  can  be  trusted. 
In  order  to  obtain  the  pleasure  of  following  their  own  will  and 
an  affection  inspired  in  them  by  the  devil,  they  will  stop  at 
nothing.  Wicked  as  I  have  been,  I  have  never  fallen  into  any  sin 
of  this  kind,  nor  have  I  ever  tried  to  do  wrong  in  this  way;  and, 


V]  LIFE  29 

even  if  I  could  have  done  so,  I  should  never  have  wanted  to 
force  anyone's  affection  in  my  favour,  for  the  Lord  has  kept  me 
from  this.  If  He  had  forsaken  me,  however,  I  should  have  done 
wrong  in  this  respect,  as  I  have  done  in  others,  for  I  am  in  no 
way  to  be  trusted. 

When  I  heard  about  this  spell  I  began  to  show  the  priest 
greater  affection.  My  intentions  here  were  good,  but  my  action 
was  wrong,  for  one  must  never  do  the  smallest  thing  that  is  wrong 
in  order  to  do  good,  however  great.  As  a  rule,  I  used  to  speak  to 
him  about  God.  This  must  have  done  something  to  help  him, 
although  I  believe  his  liking  for  me  did  more;  for,  in  order  to 
please  me,  he  gave  me  the  little  figure,  which  I  at  once  got  some- 
one to  throw  into  a  river.  When  he  had  done  this,  he  became 
like  a  man  awakening  from  a  deep  sleep  and  he  began  to  recall 
everything  that  he  had  been  doing  during  those  years.  He  was 
amazed  at  himself  and  grieved  at  his  lost  condition  and  he  began 
to  hate  the  woman  who  had  led  him  to  it.  Our  Lady  must 
have  been  a  great  help  to  him,  for  he  was  most  devoted  to  her 
Conception  and  he  used  to  keep  the  day  commemorating  it  as  a 
great  festival.  In  the  end,  he  gave  up  seeing  the  woman,  and 
never  wearied  of  giving  thanks  to  God  for  having  granted  him 
light.  Exactly  a  year  from  the  day  when  I  first  saw  him  he  died. 
He  had  been  active  in  God's  service  and  I  never  thought  there 
was  anything  wrong  in  the  great  affection  that  he  had  for  me, 
although  it  might  have  been  purer.  There  were  also  occasions 
when,  if  he  had  not  had  recourse  to  the  presence  of  God,  he  might 
have  committed  the  gravest  offences.  As  I  have  said,  I  would  not 
at  that  time  have  done  anything  which  I  believed  to  be  a  mortal 
sin.  And  I  think  his  realization  that  that  was  so  increased  his 
affection  for  me;  for  I  believe  all  men  must  have  greater  affection 
for  women  when  they  see  them  inclined  to  virtue.  Even  in  order 
to  obtain  their  earthly  desires,  women  can  get  more  from  men  in 
this  way,  as  I  shall  explain  later.  I  am  convinced  that  that  priest 
is  in  the  way  of  salvation.  He  died  very  devoutly  and  completely 
delivered  from  that  occasion  of  sin.  It  seems  that  the  Lord's  will 
was  that  he  should  be  saved  by  these  means. 

I  remained  in  that  place  for  three  months,  suffering  the 
greatest  trials,  for  the  treatment  was  more  drastic  than  my 
constitution  could  stand.  At  the  end  of  two  months,  the  severity 
of  the  remedies  had  almost  ended  my  life,  and  the  pain  in  my 
heart,  which  I  had  gone  there  to  get  treated,  was  much  worse; 
sometimes  I  felt  as  if  sharp  teeth  had  hold  of  me,  and  so  severe 
was  the  pain  they  caused  that  it  was  feared  I  was  going  mad. 
My  strength  suffered  a  grave  decline,  for  I  could  take  nothing 
but  liquid,  had  a  great  distaste  for  food,  was  in  a  continual  fever, 


30  LIFE  [CHAP. 

and  became  so  wasted  away  that,  after  they  had  given  me 
purgatives  daily  for  almost  a  month,  I  was,  as  it  were,  so  shrivelled 
up  that  my  nerves  began  to  shrink.  These  symptoms  were 
accompanied  by  intolerable  pain  which  gave  me  no  rest  by  night 
or  by  day.  Altogether  I  was  in  a  state  of  great  misery. 

Seeing  that  I  had  gained  nothing  here,  my  father  took  me  away 
and  once  again  called  in  the  doctors.  They  all  gave  me  up, 
saying  that,  quite  apart  from  everything  else,  I  was  consumptive. 
This  troubled  me  very  little :  it  was  the  pains  that  distressed  me, 
for  they  racked  me  from  head  to  foot  and  never  ceased.  Nervous 
pains,  as  the  doctors  said.,  are  intolerable,  and,  as  all  my 
nerves  had  shrunk,  this  would  indeed  have  been  terrible  torture 
if  it  had  not  all  been  due  to  my  own  fault.  I  could  not  have 
been  in  this  serious  state  for  more  than  three  months :  it  seemed 
impossible  that  so  many  ills  could  all  be  endured  at  the  same 
time.  I  am  astonished  at  myself  now  and  consider  the  patience 
which  His  Majesty  gave  me  to  have  been  a  great  favour  from  the 
Lord,  for,  as  could  clearly  be  seen,  it  was  from  Him  that  it  came. 
It  was  a  great  help  to  my  patience  that  I  had  read  the  story  of 
Job  in  the  Morals  of  St.  Gregory,1  for  the  Lord  seems  to  have 
used  this  for  preparing  me  to  suffer.  It  was  also  a  help  that  I 
had  begun  the  practice  of  prayer,  so  that  I  could  bear  everything 
with  great  resignation.  All  my  conversation  was  with  God. 
I  had  continually  in  mind  these  words  of  Job,  which  I  used  to 
repeat:  Since  we  have  received  good  things  at  the  hand  of  the 
Losd,  why  shall  we  not  suffer  evil  things?2  This  seemed  to  give 
me  strength. 

And  now  the  August  festival  of  Our  Lady  came  round:  I 
had  been  in  torment  ever  since  April,  though  the  last  three  months 
were  the  worst.  I  hastened  to  go  to  confession,  for  I  was  always 
very  fond  of  frequent  confession.  They  thought  that  this  was 
due  to  fear  of  death,  and,  in  order  that  I  should  not  be  distressed, 
my  father  forbade  me  to  go.  Oh,  what  an  excess  of  human  love! 
Though  my  father  was  so  good  a  Catholic  and  so  wise — for  he 
was  extremely  wise  and  so  was  not  acting  through  ignorance — 
he  might  have  done  me  great  harm.  That  night  I  had  a  fit, 
which  left  me  unconscious  for  nearly  four  days.3  During  that 

1  The  Discalced  nuns  of  St.  Joseph's,  Avila,  have  an  edition  of  St.  Gregory's  Morals, 
in  two  volumes,  which,  according  to  an  inscription  in  the  second  volume,  were  read 
and  marked  by  St.  Teresa.   Both  in  these  volumes,  however,  and  in  the  Alphabet, 
it  can  be  stated  with  confidence  that  the  majority  of  the  marks  were  not  made  by 
the  Saint. 

2  Job  ii,  10. 

3  According  to  Ribera  (Bk.  I,  Chap.  VII),  she  was  believed  to  be  dead,  a  grave 
was  dug  for  her  at  the  Incarnation  and  nuns  came  from  that  convent  to  keep  vigil 
by  her  body    Her  father,  however,  was  convinced  that  there  was  stall  life  in  her  and 
refused  to  consent  to  the  burial. 


V]  LIFE  31 

time  they  gave  me  the  Sacrament  of  Unction,  and  from  hour 
to  hour,  from  moment  to  moment,  thought  I  was  dying;  they 
did  nothing  but  repeat  the  Greed  to  me,  as  though  I  could  have 
understood  any  of  it.  There  must  have  been  times  when  they 
were  sure  I  was  dead,  for  afterwards  I  actually  found  some 
wax  on  my  eyelids. 

My  father  was  in  great  distress  because  he  had  not  allowed  me 
to  go  to  confession.  Many  cries  and  prayers  were  made  for  me 
to  God.  Blessed  be  He  Who  was  pleased  to  hear  them!  For  a 
day  and  a  half  there  was  an  open  grave  in  my  convent,  where 
they  were  awaiting  my  body,  and  in  one  of  the  monasteries  of 
our  Order,  some  way  from  here,  they  had  performed  the  rites  for 
the  dead.  But  it  pleased  the  Lord  that  I  should  return  to  con- 
sciousness. I  wished  at  once  to  go  to  confession.  I  communicated 
with  many  tears;  but  they  were  not,  I  think,  tears  of  sorrow  and 
distress  due  only  to  my  having  offended  God,  which  might  have 
sufficed  to  save  me,  if  there  had  not  been  sufficient  excuse  for  me 
in  the  way  I  was  misled  by  those  who  had  told  me  that  certain 
things  were  not  mortal  sins  which  I  have  since  seen  clearly  were 
so.  My  sufferings  were  so  intolerable  that  I  hardly  had  the  power 
to  think,  though  I  believe  my  confession  was  complete  as  to  all 
the  ways  in  which  I  was  conscious  of  having  offended  God.  There 
is  one  grace,  among  others,  which  His  Majesty  has  granted  me: 
never  since  I  began  to  communicate  have  I  failed  to  confess 
anything  which  I  thought  to  be  a  sin,  even  if  only  a  venial  one. 
But  I  think  that  without  doubt,  if  I  had  died  then,  my  salvation 
would  have  been  very  uncertain,  because  my  confessors,  on  the 
one  hand,  were  so  unlearned,  and  because  I,  on  the  other,  was 
so  wicked,  and  for  many  other  reasons. 

The  fact  is,  when  I  come  to  this  point,  and  realize  how  the 
Lord  seems  to  have  raised  me  from  the  dead,  I  am  so  amazed 
that  inwardly  I  am  almost  trembling.  It  would  be  well,  O  my 
soul,  if  thou  wouldst  look  at  the  danger  from  which  the  Lord 
has  delivered  thee,  so  that  if  thou  didst  not  cease  to  offend  Him 
through  love,  thou  shouldst  do  so  through  fear.  He  might  have 
slain  thee  on  any  of  a  thousand  other  occasions  and  in  a  more 
perilous  state  still.  I  do  not  believe  I  am  straying  far  from 
the  truth  when  I  say  "a  thousand",  though  I  may  be  reproved 
by  him  who  has  commanded  me  to  be  temperate  in  recounting 
my  sins,  which  I  have  presented  in  a  light  only  too  favourable. 
I  beg  him,  for  the  love  of  God,  to  excuse  none  of  my  faults, 
for  they  only  reveal  the  magnificence  of  God  and  His  longsuffering 
to  the  soul.  May  He  be  blessed  for  ever.  And  may  it  please 
His  Majesty  that  I  be  utterly  consumed  rather  than  cease  to  love 
Him. 


32  LIFE  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  VI 

Describes  all  that  she  owed  to  the  Lord  for  granting  her  resignation  in 
such  great  trials;  and  how  she  took  the  glorious  Saint  Joseph  for 
her  mediator  and  advocate;  and  the  great  profit  that  this  brought 
her. 

After  this  fit,  which  lasted  for  four  days,  I  was  in  such  a  state 
that  only  the  Lord  can  know  what  intolerable  sufferings  I 
experienced.  My  tongue  was  bitten  to  pieces;  nothing  had 
passed  my  lips ;  and  because  of  this  and  of  my  great  weakness 
my  throat  was  choking  me  so  that  I  could  not  even  take  water. 
All  my  bones  seemed  to  be  out  of  joint  and  there  was  a  terrible 
confusion  in  my  head.  As  a  result  of  the  torments  I  had  suffered 
during  these  days,  I  was  all  doubled  up,  like  a  ball,  and  no  more 
able  to  move  arm,  foot,  hand  or  head  than  if  I  had  been  dead, 
unless  others  moved  them  for  me.  I  could  move,  I  think,  only 
one  finger  of  my  right  hand.  It  was  impossible  to  let  anyone 
come  to  see  me,  for  I  was  in  such  a  state  of  distress  that  I  could 
not  endure  it.  They  used  to  move  me  in  a  sheet,  one  taking 
one  end  and  another  the  other.  This  lasted  until  Easter  Sunday.1 
My  only  alleviation  was  that,  if  no  one  came  near  me,  my 
pains  often  ceased ;  and  when  I  had  rested  a  little  I  used  to  think 
I  was  getting  well.  For  I  was  afraid  my  patience  would  fail  me; 
so  I  was  very  glad  when  I  found  myself  without  such  sharp 
and  constant  pains,  although  I  could  hardly  endure  the  .terrible 
cold  fits  of  quartan  ague,  from  which  I  still  suffered  and  which 
were  very  severe.  I  still  had  a  dreadful  distaste  for  food. 

I  was  now  so  eager  to  return  to  the  convent  that  they  had 
me  taken  there.  So,  instead  of  the  dead  body  they  had  expected, 
the  nuns  received  a  living  soul;  though  the  body  was  worse 
than  dead  and  distressing  to  behold.  My  extreme  weakness 
cannot  be  described,  for  by  this  time  I  was  nothing  but  bones. 
As  I  have  said,  I  remained  in  this  condition  for  more  than 
eight  months,  and  my  paralysis,  though  it  kept  improving, 
continued  for  nearly  three  years.  When  I  began  to  get  about 
on  my  hands  and  knees,  I  praised  God.  All  this^  I  bore  with 
great  resignation,  ^and,  except  at  the  beginning,  with  great 
joy;  for  none  of  it  could  compare  with  the  pains  and  torments 
which  I  had  suffered  at  first.  I  was  quite  resigned  to  the  will 
of  God,  even  if  He  had  left  me  in  this  condition  for  ever.  My 
great  yearning,  I  think,  was  to  get  well  so  that  I  might  be  alone 

1  \fascuajiorida.  Lewis  (p.  33)  erroneously  translates  "Palm  Sunday".] 


VI]  LIFE  33 

when  I  prayed,  as  I  had  been  taught  to  be — there  was  no  possi- 
bility of  this  in  the  infirmary.  I  made  my  confession  very  fre- 
quently, and  talked  a  great  deal  about  God,  in  such  a  way 
that  all  were  edified  and  astonished  at  the  patience  which  the 
Lord  gave  me;  for  if  it  had  not  come  from  His  Majesty's  hand 
it  would  have  seemed  impossible  to  be  able  to  endure  such  great 
sufferings  with  such  great  joy. 

It  was  a  wonderful  thing  for  me  to  have  received  the  grace 
which  God  had  granted  me  through  prayer,  for  this  made 
me  realize  what  it  was  to  love  Him.  After  a  short  time  I  found 
these  virtues  were  renewed  within  me,  although  not  in  great 
strength,  for  they  were  not  sufficient  to  uphold  me  in  righteous- 
ness. I  never  spoke  ill  of  anyone  in  the  slightest  degree,  for 
my  usual  practice  was  to  avoid  all  evil-speaking.  I  used  to 
remind  myself  that  I  must  not  wish  or  say  anything  about 
anyone  which  I  should  not  like  to  be  said  of  me.  I  was  extremely 
particular  about  observing  this  rule  on  all  possible  occasions, 
although  I  was  not  so  perfect  as  not  to  fail  now  and  then  when 
faced  with  difficult  situations.  Still,  that  was  my  usual  habit; 
and  those  who  were  with  me  and  had  to  do  with  me  were  so 
much  struck  by  it  that  they  made  it  a  habit  too.  It  came  to 
be  realized  that  in  my  presence  people  could  turn  their  backs 
to  me  and  yet  be  quite  safe;  and  so,  too,  they  were  with  my 
friends  and  kinsfolk  and  those  who  learned  from  me.  But  in 
other  respects  I  shall  have  to  give  a  strict  account  to  God  for 
the  bad  example  which  I  set  them.  May  it  please  His  Majesty 
to  forgive  me,  for  I  have  been  the  cause  of  much  wrongdoing, 
though  my  intentions  were  not  so  harmful  as  were  the  actions 
which  resulted  from  them. 

My  desire  for  solitude  continued  and  I  was  fond  of  speak- 
ing and  conversing  about  God;  if  I  found  anyone  with  whom 
I  could  do  so,  it  gave  me  more  joy  and  recreation  than  indul- 
gence in  any  of  the  refinements  (which  are  really  coarsenesses) 
of  the  conversation  of  the  world.  I  communicated  and  con- 
fessed very  much  more  frequently — and  this  by  my  own  wish; 
I  loved  reading  good  books;  I  was  not  sincerely  penitent  at 
having  offended  God;  and  I  remember  that  often  I  dared  not 
pray  because  I  was  afraid  of  the  very  deep  distress  which  I 
should  feel  at  having  offended  Him,  and  which  was  like  a  severe 
punishment.  This  continued  to  grow  upon  me  and  became 
such  a  torment  that  I  do  not  know  with  what  I  can  compare 
it.  And  its  being  greater  or  less  had  nothing  to  do  with  any 
fear  of  mine,  for  it  would  come  when  I  thought  of  the  favours 
which  the  Lord  was  giving  me  in  prayer,  and  of  all  that  I  owed 
Him,  and  when  I  saw  how  ill  I  was  requiting  Him.  I  could  not 


34  LIFE  {CHAP. 

bear  it;  and  I  would  grow  very  angry  with  myself  at  shedding 
so  many  tears  for  my  faults,  when  I  saw  how  little  I  improved 
and  how  neither  my  resolutions  nor  the  trouble  I  took  were 
sufficient  to  keep  me  from  falling  again  when  an  occasion 
presented  itself.  My  tears  seemed  to  me  deceptive  and  my 
faults  the  greater  because  I  was  conscious  of  the  great  favour 
which  the  Lord  bestowed  upon  me  in  granting  me  these  tears 
and  this  great  repentance.  I  used  to  try  to  make  my  confession 
as  soon  as  possible  after  I  had  fallen;  and,  I  think,  did  all  I 
could  to  return  to  grace.  The  whole  trouble  lay  in  my  not 
cutting  off  the  occasions  of  sin  at  the  root,  and  in  the  scant 
help  given  me  by  my  confessors.  For,  if  they  had  told  me  how 
dangerous  was  the  path  I  was  taking  and  how  incumbent 
upon  me  it  was  not  to  indulge  in  these  conversations,  I  feel 
quite  sure  I  could  never  have  endured  remaining  in  mortal 
sin  for  even  a  day  with  the  knowledge  that  I  was  doing  so. 
All  these  tokens  of  the  fear  of  God  came  to  me  in  prayer.  The 
chief  of  them  was  that  my  fear  was  always  swallowed  up1  in 
love,  for  I  never  thought  about  punishment.  All  the  time  I 
was  so  ill,  I  kept  a  strict  watch  over  my  conscience  with  respect 
to  mortal  sin.  O  God,  how  I  longed  for  health  that  I  might 
serve  Thee  better!  And  that  was  the  cause  of  all  my  wrong- 
doing. 

For  when  I  found  that,  while  still  so  young,  I  was  so  seriously 
paralysed,  and  that  earthly  doctors  had  been  unable  to  cure 
me,  I  resolved  to  seek  a  cure  from  heavenly  doctors,  for,  though 
I  bore  my  sickness  with  great  joy,  I  none  the  less  desired  to  be 
well  again.  I  often  reflected  that,  if  I  were  to  grow  well  and 
then  to  incur  damnation,  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  remain 
as  I  was;  but  still  I  believed  that  I  should  serve  God  much 
better  if  I  recovered  my  health.  That  is  the  mistake  we  make  : 
we  do  not  leave  ourselves  entirely  in  the  Lord's  hands;  yet 
He  knows  best  what  is  good  for  us. 

I  began  by  having  Masses  said  for  me,  and  prayers  which 
had  been  fully  approved;  for  I  was  never  fond  of  other  kinds 
of  devotion  which  some  people  practise — especially  women — 
together  with  ceremonies  which  I  could  never  endure,  but 
for  which  they  have  a  great  affection.  Since  then  it  has  been 
explained  to  me  that  such  things  are  unseemly  and  superstitious. 
I  took  for  my  advocate  and  lord  the  glorious  Saint  Joseph 
and  commended  myself  earnestly  to  him;  and  I  found  that 
this  my  father  and  lord  delivered  me  both  from  this  trouble 
and  also  from  other  and  greater  troubles  concerning  my  honour2 

^[Envuelto.   Lit.'  "wrapped  up",  "swathed".] 
2  [Hcnra.   Gf.  p.  14,  n.  2,  above] 


VI]  LIFE  35 

and  the  loss  of  my  soul,  and  that  he  gave  me  greater  blessings 
than  I  could  ask  of  him.  I  do  not  remember  even  now  that 
I  have  ever  asked  anything  of  him  which  he  has  failed  to  grant. 
I  am  astonished  at  the  great  favours  which  God  has  bestowed 
on  me  through  this  blessed  saint,  and  at  the  perils  from  which 
He  has  freed  me,  both  in  body  and  in  soul.  To  other  saints 
the  Lord  seems  to  have  given  grace  to  succour  us  in  some  of 
our  necessities  but  of  this  glorious  saint  my  experience  is  that 
he  succours  us  in  them  all  and  that  the  Lord  wishes  to  teach 
us  that  as  He  was  Himself  subject  to  him  on  earth  (for,  being 
His  guardian  and  being  called  His  father,  he  could  command 
Him)  just  so  in  Heaven  He  still  does  all  that  he  asks.  This  has 
also  been  the  experience  of  other  persons  whom  I  have  advised 
to  commend  themselves  to  him;  and  even  to-day  there  are 
many  who  have  great  devotion  to  him  through  having  newly 
experienced  this  truth. 

I  used  to  try  to  keep  his  feast  with  the  greatest  possible 
solemnity1;  but,  though  my  intentions  were  good,  I  would 
observe  it  with  more  vanity  than  spirituality,  for  I  always  wanted 
things  to  be  done  very  meticulously  and  well.  I  had  this  unfortu- 
nate characteristic  that,  if  the  Lord  gave  me  grace  to  do  any- 
thing good,  the  way  I  did  it  was  full  of  imperfections  and 
extremely  faulty.  I  was  very  assiduous  and  skilful  in 
wrong-doing  and  in  my  meticulousness  and  vanity.  May  the 
Lord  forgive  me.  I  wish  I  could  persuade  everyone  to  be 
devoted  to  this  glonous  saint,  for  I  have  great  experience 
of  the  blessings  which  he  can  obtain  from  God.  I  have  never 
known  anyone  be  truly  devoted  to  him  and  render  him  par- 
ticular services  who  did  not  notably  advance  in  virtue,  for  he 
gives  very  real  help  to  souls  who  commend  themselves  to  him. 
For  some  years  now,  I  think,  I  have  made  some  request  of  him 
every  year  on  his  festival  and  I  have  always  had  it  granted. 
If  my  petition  is  in  any  way  ill  directed,  he  directs  it  aright 
for  my  greater  good. 

If  I  were  a  person  writing  with  authority,  I  would  gladly 
describe,  at  greater  length  and  in  the  minutest  detail,  the  favours 
which  this  glorious  saint  has  granted  to  me  and  to  others. 
But  in  order  not  to  do  more  than  I  have  been  commanded 
I  shall  have  to  write  about  many  things  briefly,  much  more 
so  than  I  should  wish,  and  at  unnecessarily  great  length  about 
others :  in  short,  I  must  act  like  one  who  has  little  discretion  in 
all  that  is  good.  I  only  beg,  for  the  love  of  God,  that  anyone 

1  In  many  Spanish  convents  at  this  time  it  was  customary  to  allow  any  nun  who 
could  afford  to  do  so  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  yearly  festival  of  some  one  saint  to 
whom  she  might  be  particularly  devoted.  This  custom  obtained  at  the  Incarnation. 


36  LIFE  [CHAP. 

who  does  not  believe  me  will  put  what  I  say  to  the  test,  and 
he  will  see  by  experience  what  great  advantages  come  from  his 
commending  himself  to  this  glorious  patriarch  and  having 
devotion  to  him.  Those  who  practise  prayer  should  have  a  special 
affection  for  him  always.  I  do  not  know  how  anyone  can  think 
of  the  Queen  of  the  Angels,  during  the  time  that  she  suffered 
so  much  with  the  Child  Jesus,  without  giving  thanks  to  Saint 
Joseph  for  the  way  he  helped  them.  If  anyone  cannot  find  a 
master  to  teach  him  how  to  pray,  let  him  take  this  glorious 
saint  as  his  master  and  he  will  not  go  astray.  May  the  Lord 
grant  that  I  have  not  erred  in  venturing  to  speak  of  him;  for 
though  I  make  public  acknowledgment  of  my  devotion  to 
him,  in  serving  and  imitating  him  I  have  always  failed.  He 
was  true  to  his  own  nature  when  he  cured  my  paralysis  and 
gave  me  the  power  to  rise  and  walk;  and  I  am  following  my 
own  nature  in  using  this  favour  so  ill. 

Who  would  have  said  that  I  should  fall  so  soon,  after  receiving 
so  many  favours  from  God,  and  after  His  Majesty  had  begun 
to  grant  me  virtues  which  themselves  aroused  me  to  serve  Him; 
after  I  had  seen  myself  at  death's  door  and  in  such  great  peril 
of  damnation ;  after  He  had  raised  me  up,  in  soul  and  in  body, 
so  that  all  who  saw  me  were  amazed  to  see  me  alive?  What 
it  is,  my  Lord,  to  have  to  live  a  life  so  full  of  perils !  For  here 
I  am  writing  this,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  with  Thy  favour 
and  through  Thy  mercy  I  might  say  with  Saint  Paul,  though 
not  so  perfectly  as  he:  For  it  is  not  I  now  who  live,  but  Thou, 
my  Creator,  livest  in  me.1  For  some  years,  so  far  as  I  can  see, 
Thou  hast  held  me  by  Thy  hand,  and  I  find  I  have  desires  and 
resolutions — tested  to  a  certain  extent,  during  these  years,  in 
many  ways,  by  experience — to  do  nothing  contrary  to  Thy 
will,  however  trifling  it  may  be,  though  I  must  often  have  caused 
Thy  Majesty  numerous  offences  without  knowing  it.  It  seems 
to  me,  too,  that  nothing  can  present  itself  to  me  which  I  would 
not  with  great  resolution  undertake  for  love  of  Thee,  and  some 
of  these  things  Thou  hast  helped  me  successfully  to*  accomplish. 
I  desire  neither  the  world  nor  anything  that  is  worldly,  and 
nothing  seems  to  give  me  pleasure  unless  it  comes  from  Thee: 
everything  else  seems  to  me  a  heavy  cross.  I  may  well  be  mistaken 
and  it  may  be  that  I  have  not  the  desire  that  I  have  described; 
but  Thou  seest,  my  Lord,  that,  so  far  as  I  can  understand,  I 
am  not  lying.  I  am  afraid,  and  with  good  reason,  that  Thou 
mayest  once  more  forsake  me;  for  I  know  well  how  little  my 
strength  and  insufficiency  of  virtue  can  achieve  if  Thou  be  not 
ever  granting  me  Thy  grace  and  helping  me  not  to  forsake 

1  Galatians  ii,  20. 


VI]  LIFE  37 

Thee.  May  it  please  Thy  Majesty  that  I  be  not  forsaken  by  Thee 
even  now,  while  I  am  thinking  all  this  about  myself.  I  do  not 
know  why  we  wish  to  live,  when  everything  is  so  uncertain. 
I  used  to  think,  my  Lord,  that  it  was  impossible  to  forsake 
Thee  wholly;  yet  how  many  times  have  I  forsaken  Thee!  I 
cannot  but  fear;  for,  when  Thou  didst  withdraw  from  me  but  a 
little,  I  fell  utterly  to  the  ground.  Blessed  be  Thou  for  ever! 
For,  though  I  have  forsaken  Thee,  Thou  hast  not  so  completely 
forsaken  me  as  not  to  raise  me  up  again  by  continually  giving 
me  Thy  hand.  Often,  Lord,  I  would  not  take  it,  and  often 
when  Thou  didst  call  me  a  second  time  I  would  not  listen,  as 
I  shall  now  relate. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Descnbes  how  she  began  to  lose  the  favours  which  the  Lord  had  granted 
her  and  how  evil  her  life  became.  Treats  of  the  harm  that  comes 
to  convents  from  laxity  in  the  observance  of  the  rule  of  enclosure. 

I  began,  then,  to  indulge  in  one  pastime  after  another,  in 
one  vanity  after  another  and  in  one  occasion  of  sin  after  another. 
Into  so  many  and  such  grave  occasions  of  sin  did  I  fall,  and 
so  far  was  my  soul  led  astray  by  all  these  vanities,  that  I  was 
ashamed  to  return  to  God  and  to  approach  Him  in  the  intimate 
friendship  which  comes  from  prayer.  This  shame  was  increased 
by  the  fact  that,  as  my  sins  grew  in  number,  I  b£gan  to  lose  the 
pleasure  and  joy  which  I  had  been  deriving  from  virtuous  things. 
I  saw  very  clearly,  my  Lord,  that  this  was  failing  me  because 
I  was  failing  Thee.  The  devil,  beneath  the  guise  of  humility, 
now  led  me  into  the  greatest  of  all  possible  errors.  Seeing  that 
I  was  so  utterly  lost,  I  began  to  be  afraid  to  pray.  It  seemed  to 
me  better,  since  in  my  wickedness  I  was  one  of  the  worst  people 
alive,  to  live  like  everyone  else;  to  recite,  vocally,  the  prayers 
that  I  was  bound  to  say;  and  not  to  practise  mental  prayer  or 
hold  so  much  converse  with  God,  since  I  deserved  to  be  with 
the  devils,  and,  by  presenting  an  outward  appearance  of  good- 
ness, was  only  deceiving  others.  No  blame  for  this  is  to  be 
attributed  to  the  house  in  which  I  lived,  for  I  was  clever  enough 
to  see  to  it  that  the  nuns  had  a  good  opinion  of  me,  though  I 
did  not  do  so  deliberately,  by  pretending  to  be  a  good  Christian, 
for  in  the  matter  of  vainglory  and  hypocrisy — glory  be  to  God! — I 
do  not  remember  having  even  once  offended  Him,  so  far  as  I 
am  aware.  For  if  ever  I  perceived  within  myself  the  first 
motions  of  such  a  thing,  it  distressed  me  so  much  that  the  devil 


38  LIFE  [CHAP. 

would  depart  confounded  and  I  would  be  all  the  better  for  it; 
so  he  has  very  seldom  tempted  me  much  in  this  way.  Perhaps, 
if  God  had  permitted  me  to  be  tempted  as  severely  in  this  respect 
as  in  others,  I  should  have  fallen  here  too,  but  so  far  His  Majesty 
has  kept  me  from  this.  May  He  be  for  ever  blessed.  In  reality, 
therefore,  I  was  very  much  troubled  that  they  should  have 
such  a  good  opinion  of  me,  as  I  knew  what  sort  of  person  I  was 
inwardly. 

This  belief  which  they  had  that  I  was  not  so  wicked  was 
the  result  of  their  seeing  me,  young  though  I  was  and  exposed 
to  so  many  occasions  of  sin,  withdrawing  myself  frequently  into 
solitude,  saying  my  prayers,  reading  a  great  deal,  speaking 
about  God,  liking  to  have  pictures  of  Him  in  a  great  many 
places,  wanting  an  oratory  of  my  own,  trying  to  get  objects  of 
devotion  for  it,  refraining  from  evil-speaking  and  doing  other 
things  of  that  kind  which  gave  me  the  appearance  of  being 
virtuous.  I  myself  was  vain  and  liked  to  be  well  thought  of  in 
the  things  wont  to  be  esteemed  by  the  world.  On  account  of 
this  they  gave  me  as  much  liberty  as  is  given  to  the  oldest  nuns, 
and  even  more,  and  they  had  great  confidence  in  me.  For  I 
did  no  such  things  as  taking  liberties  for  myself  or  doing  any- 
thing without  leave — such  as  talking  to  people  through  crevices 
or  over  walls  or  by  night — and  I  do  not  think  I  could  ever  have 
brought  myself  to  talk  in  such  a  way  with  anyone  in  the  convent, 
for  the  Lord  held  me  by  His  hand.  It  seemed  to  me — for  there 
were  many  things  which  I  used  to  ponder  deliberately  and 
with  great  care — that  it  would  be  very  wrong  of  me  to  compromise 
the  good  name  of  so  many  of  the  sisters  when  I  was  wicked 
and  they  were  good:  just  as  though  all  the  other  things  that 
I  did  had  been  good!  In  truth,  though  I  often  acted  very 
wrongly,  my  faults  were  never  so  much  the  result  of  a  set  purpose 
as  those  others  would  have  been. 

For  that  reason,  I  think  it  was  a  very  bad  thing  for  me  not 
to  be  in  a  convent  that  was  enclosed.  The  freedom  which  the 
sisters,  who  were  good,  might  enjoy  without  becoming  less  so 
(for  they  were  not  obliged  to  live  more  strictly  than  they  did 
as  they  had  not  taken  a  vow  of  enclosure)  would  certainly  have 
led  me,  who  am  wicked,  down  to  hell,  had  not  the  Lord,  through 
very  special  favours,  using  means  and  remedies  which  are  all 
His  own,  delivered  me  from  this  peril.  It  seems  to  me,  then,  that 
it  is  a  very  great  danger  for  women  in  a  convent  to  have  such 
freedom:  for  those  who  want  to  be  wicked  it  is  not  so  much  a 
remedy  for  their  weaknesses  as  a  step  on  the  way  to  hell.  But 
this  is  not  to  be  applied  to  my  convent,  where  there  are  so  many 
who  servfe  the  Lord  in  very  truth  and  with  great  perfection,  so 


VII]  LIFE  39 

that  His  Majesty,  in  His  goodness,  cannot  fail  to  help  them. 
Nor  is  it  one  of  those  which  are  completely  open,  for  all  religious 
observances  are  kept  in  it:  I  am  comparing  it  now  with  others 
which  I  know  and  have  seen. 

This  seems  to  me,  as  I  say,  a  great  pity;  for,  when  a  convent 
follows  standards  and  allows  recreations  which  belong  to  the 
world,  and  the  obligations  of  the  nuns  are  so  ill  understood, 
the  Lord  has  perforce  to  call  each  of  them  individually,  and  not 
once  but  many  times,  if  they  are  to  be  saved.  God  grant  that 
they  may  not  all  mistake  sin  for  virtue,  as  I  so  often  did !  It  is  very 
difficult  to  make  people  see  this  and  the  Lord  must  needs  take 
the  matter  right  into  His  own  hands.  Parents  seem  to  give  little 
thought  to  the  placing  of  their  daughters  where  they  may  walk 
in  the  way  of  salvation,  but  allow  them  to  run  into  more  danger 
than  they  would  in  the  world;  nevertheless,  if  they  will  follow 
my  advice,  they  will  at  least  consider  what  concerns  their  honour. 
Let  them  be  prepared  to  allow  them  to  marry  far  beneath 
their  stations  rather  than  put  them  into  convents  of  this  kind, 
unless  they  are  very  devoutly  inclined — and  God  grant  that 
their  inclinations  may  lead  them  into  what  is  good!  Otherwise 
they  will  do  better  to  keep  them  at  home;  for  there,  if  they  want 
to  be  wicked,  they  cannot  long  hide  their  wickedness,  whereas 
in  convents  it  can  be  hidden  for  a.  very  long  time  indeed,  until, 
in  the  end,  it  is  revealed  by  the  Lord.  They  do  harm  not  only 
to  themselves  but  to  everybody  else;  and  at  times  the  poor 
creatures  are  really  not  to  blame,  for  they  only  do  what  they 
find  others  doing.  Many  of  them  are  to  be  pitied:  they  wish 
to  escape  from  the  world,  and,  thinking  that  they  are  going  to 
serve  the  Lord  and  flee  from  the  world  and  its  perils,  they  find 
themselves  in  ten  worlds  at  once,  and  have  no  idea  where  to 
turn  or  how  to  get  out  of  their  difficulties.  Youth,  sensuality 
and  the  devil  invite  and  incline  them  to  do  things  which  are 
completely  worldly;  and  they  see  that  these  things'  are  considered, 
as  one  might  say,  "all  right".  To  me,  in  some  ways,  they  resemble 
those  unhappy  heretics,  who  wilfully  blind  themselves  and 
proclaim  that  what  they  do  is  good ;  and  believe  it  to  be  so,  yet 
without  real  confidence,  for  there  is  something  within  them 
which  tells  them  they  are  doing  wrong. 

Oh,  what  terrible  harm,  what  terrible  harm  is  wrought  in 
religious  (I  am  referring  now  as  much  to  men  as  to  women) 
when  the  religious  life  is  not  properly  observed;  when  of  the  two 
paths  that  can  be  followed  in  a  religious  house — one  leading 
to  virtue  and  the  observance  of  the  Rule  and  the  other  leading 
away  from  the  Rule — both  are  frequented  almost  equally!  No, 
I  am  wrong :  they  are  not  frequented  equally,  for  our  sins  cause 


40  LIFE  [CHAP. 

the  more  imperfect  road  to  be  the  more  commonly  taken; 
being  the  broader,  it  is  the  more  generally  favoured.  The  way 
of  true  religion  is  frequented  so  little  that,  if  the  friar  and  the 
nun  are  to  begin  to  follow  their  vocation  truly,  they  need  to  be 
more  afraid  of  the  religious  in  their  own  house  than  of  all  the 
devils.  They  must  observe  greater  caution  and  dissimulation 
when  speaking  of  the  friendship  which  they  would  have  with 
God  than  in  speaking  of  other  friendships  and  affections  promoted 
in  religious  houses  by  the  devil.  I  cannot  think  why  we  should 
be  astonished  at  all  the  evils  which  exist  in  the  Church,  when 
those  who  ought  to  be  models  on  which  all  may  pattern  their 
virtues  are  annulling  the  work  wrought  in  the  religious  Orders 
by  the  spirit  of  the  saints  of  old.  May  His  Divine  Majesty  be 
pleased  to  find  a  reme'dy  for  this,  as  He  sees  needful.  Amen. 

Now  when  I  began  to  indulge  in  these  conversations,  I  did  not 
think,  seeing  them  to  be  so  usual,  that  they  would  cause  the 
harm  and  distraction  to  my  soul  which  I  found  would  be  the 
case  later.  For  I  thought  that,  as  in  many  convents  it  is  such  a 
common  practice  to  receive  visitors,  I  should  take  no  more  harm 
from  it  than  would  others  whom  I  knew  to  be  good.  I  did  not 
realize  that  they  were  far  better1  than  I  and  that  what  was 
dangerous  for  me  would  not  be  so  dangerous  for  others.  Yet  I 
have  no  doubt  that  the  practice  is  never  quite  free  from  danger, 
'  if  only  because  it  is  a  waste  of  time.  I  was  once  in  the  company 
of  a  certain  person,  right  at  the  beginning  of  my  acquaintance 
with  her,  when  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  make  me  realize  that 
these  friendships  were  not  good  for  me,  and  to  warn  me  and 
enlighten  my  great  blindness.  Christ  revealed  Himself  to  me, 
in  an  attitude  of  great  sternness,  and  showed  me  what  there  was 
in  this  that  displeased  Him.1  I  saw  Him  with  the  eyes  of  the 
soul  more  clearly  than  I  could  ever  have  seen  Him  with  those 
of  the  body;  and  it  made  such  an  impression  upon  me  that, 
although  it  is  now  more  than  twenty-six  years  ago,  I  seem  to 
have  Him  present  with  me  still.  I  was  greatly  astonished  and 
upset  about  it  and  I  never  wanted  to  see  that  person  again. 

It  did  me  great  harm  not  to  know  that  it  was  possible  to 
see  anything  otherwise  than  with  the  eyes  of  the  body.  It  was 
the  devil  who  encouraged  me  in  this  ignorance  and  made  me 
think  that  anything  else  was  impossible.  He  led  me  to  believe 
that  I  had  imagined  it  all,  and  that  it  might  have  been  the  work 
of  the  devil,  and  other  things  of  that  kind.  I  always  had  an  idea 
that  it  was  not  due  to  my  fancy  but  came  from  God.  However, 
just  because  the  vision  did  not  please  me,  I  forced  myself  to  give 

1  [The  Saint  wrote,  no  doubt  madvertendy,  "that  did  not  displease  Him".]    P. 
Banez  corrected  this  to:  "that  He  did  not  like" 


VII]  LIFE  41 

the  lie  to  my  own  instinct;  and,  as  I  dared  not  discuss  it  with 
anyone,  and  after  a  time  great  importunity  was  brought  to  bear 
on  me,  I  entered  into  relations  with  that  person  once  again.  I 
was  assured  that  there  was  no  harm  in  my  seeing  such  a  person, 
and  that  by  doing  so  I  should  not  injure  my  good  name1  but 
rather  enhance  it.  On  subsequent  occasions  I  got  to  know 
other  people  in  the  same  way;  and  I  spent  many  years  in  this 
pestilential  pastime,  which,  whenever  I  was  engaged  in  it,  never 
seemed  to  me  as  bad  as  it  really  was,  though  sometimes  I  saw 
clearly  that  it  was  not  good.  But  no  one  caused  me  as  much 
distraction  as  did  the  person  of  whom  I  am  speaking,  for  I  was 
very  fond  of  her. 

On  another  occasion,  when  I  was  with  that  same  person,  we 
saw  coming  towards  us — and  others  who  were  there  saw  this 
too — something  like  a  great  toad,  but  crawling  much  more 
quickly  than  toads  are  wont  to  do.  I  cannot  imagine  how  such 
a  reptile  could  have  come  from  the  place  in  question  in  broad 
daylight;  it  had  never  happened  before,  and  the  incident 
made  such  an  impression  on  me  that  I  think  it  must  have  had 
a  hidden  meaning,  and  I  have  never  forgotten  this  either. 
O  greatness  of  God!  With  what  care  and  compassion  didst 
Thou  warn  me  in  every  way  and  how  little  did  I  profit  by  Thy 
warnings ! 

There  was  a  nun  in  that  convent,  who  was  a  relative  of  mine; 
she  had  been  there  a  long  time  and  was  a  great  servant  of  God 
and  devoted  to  the  Rule  of  her  Order.  She,  too,  occasionally 
warned  me ;  and  not  only  did  I  disbelieve  her  but  I  was  displeased 
with  her,  for  I  thought  she  was  shocked  without  cause.  I  have 
mentioned  this  in  order  to  make  clear  my  wickedness  and  the 
great  goodness  of  God  and  to  show  how  by  this  great  ingratitude 
of  mine  I  had  merited  hell.  I  also  mention  it  in  order  that,  if 
it  is  the  Lord's  will  and  pleasure  that  it  shall  be  read  at  any 
time  by  a  nun,  she  may  be  warned  by  me.  I  beg  all  nuns,  for 
the  love  of  Our  Lord,  to  flee  from  such  pastimes  as  these.  May 
His  Majesty  grant  that  some  of  those  whom  I  have  led  astray 
may  be  set  in  the  right  path  by  me;  I  used  to  tell  them  that  there 
was  nothing  wrong  in  this  practice,  and,  blind  that  I  was,  reassure 
them  about  what  was  in  reality  a  great  danger.  I  would  never 
have  deliberately  deceived  them;  but,  through  the  bad  example 
that  I  set  them,  as  I  have  said,  I  was  the  cause  of  a  great  deal 
of  wrong-doing  without  ever  thinking  I  could  be. 

In  those  early  days,  during  my  illness,  and. before  I  knew 
how  to  take  care  of  myself,  I  used  to  have  the  greatest  desire  to 
be  of  use  to  others.  This  is  a  very  common  temptation  in  begin- 

1  [Honra.] 


42  LIFE  [CHAP. 

ners;  in  my  case,  however,  its  effects  were  good.  I  was  so  fond 
of  my  father  that  I  longed  for  him  to  experience  the  benefit 
which  I  seemed  to  be  deriving  from  the  practice  of  prayer  myself, 
for  I  thought  that  in  this  life  there  could  be  nothing  greater. 
So  by  indirect  methods,  and  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  I  began  to 
try  to  get  him  to  practise  it.  To  this  end  I  gave  him  books  to 
read.  Being  very  virtuous,  as  I  have  said  he  was,  he  took  so  well 
to  this  exercise  that  in  five  or  six  years  (I  think  it  must  have  been1) 
he  had  made  such  progress  that  I  praised  the  Lord  greatly  and 
was  wonderfully  encouraged.  He  had  to  bear  the  severest 
trials  of  many  different  kinds  and  he  bore  them  with  the  greatest 
resignation.  He  often  came  to  see  me,  for  he  derived  great  com- 
fort from  speaking  of  the  things  of  God. 

But  now  that  I  had  fallen  away  so  far,  and  no  longer  practised 
prayer,  I  could  not  bear  him  to  think,  as  I  saw  he  did,  that  I 
was  still  just  as  I  used  to  be;  so  I  had  to  undeceive  him.  For  I 
had  been  a  year  or  more  without  praying,  thinking  that  to 
refrain  from  prayer  was  a  sign  of  greater  humility.  This,  as  I 
shall  afterwards  explain,  was  the  greatest  temptation  I  had: 
it  nearly  brought  about  my  ruin.  For  during  the  time  I  practised 
prayer,  if  I  had  offended  God  one  day,  I  would  recollect  myself 
on  the  following  days  and  withdraw  farther  from  occasions  of 
sin.  When  that  dear  good  man  came  to  visit  me,  it  was  very 
hard  for  me  to  see  him  under  the  false  impression  that  I  was  still 
communing  with  God  as  I  had  been  doing  before.  So  I  told  him 
that  I  was  no  longer  praying,  without  telling  him  the  reason. 
I  made  my  illnesses  an  excuse;  for,  though  I  had  recovered  from 
that  very  serious  illness,  I  have  suffered  ever  since  from  indis- 
positions, and  sometimes  from  grave  ones,  even  to  this  day. 
For  some  time  my  complaints  have  been  less  troublesome, 
but  they  have  by  no  means  left  me.  In  particular,  for  twenty 
years  I  suffered  from  morning  sickness,  so  that  I  was  not  able 
to  break  my  fast  until  after  midday — sometimes  not  until  much 
later.  Now  that  I  go  oftener  to  Communion,  I  have  to  bring 
on  the  sickness  at  night,  with  feathers  or  in  some  other  way, 
before  I  go  to  bed,  which  is  much  more  distressing;  but  if  I  let 
it  take  its  course  I  feel  much  worse.  I  think  I  can  hardly  ever  be 
free  from  aches  and  pains,  and  sometimes  very  serious  ones, 
especially  in  the  heart,  although  the  trouble  which  I  once  had 
continually  now  occurs  only  rarely,  and  I  have  been  free  for 
quite  eight  years  from  the  paralysis  and  the  feverish  complaints 

1  [Hardly  quite  so  long,  as]  it  seems  certain  that  Don  Alonso  died  on  December  24, 
1543.  His  will  is  dated  December  3,  1543,  an<l  ^  son  an(i  executor  Lorenzo  opened 
it  on  December  26  [P.  Silverio  reproduces  documents  which  disprove  MIT'S  date  of 
1545  for  Don  Alonso's  death.] 


VII]  LIFE  43 

from  which  I  used  often  to  suffer.  Of  these  troubles  I  now  make 
such  little  account  that  I  often  rejoice  in  them,  thinking  that 
to  some  extent  they  are  pleasing  to  the  Lord. 

My  father  believed  me  when  I  told  him  that  it  was  because  of 
my  health  that  I  had  ceased  to  pray,  since  he  never  told  a 
lie  himself,  and,  in  view  of  the  relations  between  us,  there 
was  no  reason  why  I  should  have  done  so  either.  I  told  him, 
in  order  to  make  my  story  the  more  credible  (for  I  well  knew  that 
I  had  no  such  excuse  really),  that  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to 
attend  the  choir  offices.  Not  that  this  would  be  any  sufficient 
reason  for  giving  up  something  which  needs  no  bodily  strength, 
but  only  love  and  the  formation  of  a  habit;  and  the  Lord  always 
gives  us  an  opportunity  if  we  want  one.  I  say  always;  for,  though 
there  may  be  times  when  we  are  prevented  by  various  hind- 
rances, and  even  by  illness,  from  spending  much  time  alone, 
there  are  plenty  of  others  when  we  are  in  sufficiently  good  health 
to  do  so.  And  even  despite  illness,  or  other  hindrances,  we  can 
still  engage  in  true  prayer,  when  there  is  love  in  the  soul,  by 
offering  up  that  very  impediment,  remembering  Him  for  Whom 
we  suffer  it  and  being  resigned  to  it  and  to  a  thousand  other 
things  which  may  happen  to  us.  It  is  here  that  love  comes  in; 
for  we  are  not  necessarily  praying  when  we  are  alone,  nor  need 
we  refrain  from  praying  when  we  are  not. 

With  a  little  care,  great  blessings  can  be  acquired  at  times 
when  the  Lord  deprives  us  of  our  hours  of  prayer  by  sending  us 
trials;  and  this  I  had  myself  found  to  be  the  case  when  my 
conscience  had  been  good.  But  my  father,  holding  the  opinion 
of  me  that  he  did  and  loving  me  as  he  did,  believed  everything 
I  told  him  and  in  fact  was  sorry  for  me.  As  he  had  now  reached 
such  a  high  state  of  prayer  he  used  not  to  stay  with  me  for  so 
long,  but  after  he  had  seen  me  would  go  away,  saying  that  he 
was  wasting  his  time.  As  I  was  wasting  mine  on  other  vanities, 
this  remark  made  little  impression  upon  me.  There  were  other 
persons,  as  well  as  my  father,  whom  I  tried  to  lead  into  the 
practice  of  prayer.  Indulging  in  vanities  myself  though  I  was, 
when  I  saw  people  who  were  fond  of  saying  their  prayers,  I 
would  show  them  how  to  make  a  meditation  and  help  them  and 

r've  them  books;  for  ever  since  I  began  to  pray,  as  I  have  said, 
had  this  desire  that  others  should  serve  God.  And  now  that  I 
was  no  longer  serving  the  Lord  according  to  my  ability,  I  thought 
that  the  knowledge  which  His  Majesty  had  given  me  ought  not 
to  be  lost  and  wanted  others  to  learn  to  serve  Him  through  me. 
I  say  this  in  order  to  show  how  great  was  my  blindness,  which 
allowed  me  to  do  such  harm  to  myself  and  yet  to  try  to  be"  of 
profit  to  others. 


44  LIFE  [CHAP. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  my  father  was  stricken  by  the  illness 
of  which  he  died.  It  lasted  for  some  days.  I  went  to  look  after 
him,  more  afflicted  in  soul  than  he  in  body,  on  account  of  my 
vanities,  though,  as  far  as  I  was  aware,  I  was  never  in  mortal 
sin  during  the  whole  of  this  wasted  time  of  which  I  am  speaking: 
if  I  had  known  myself  to  be  so  I  would  on  no  account  have 
continued  in  it.  I  was  greatly  distressed  by  his  illness  and  I  believe 
I  was  able  to  return  him  some  part  of  all  he  had  done  for  me 
when  I  was  ill  myself.  Distressed  as  I  was,  I  forced  myself  into 
activity;  and  though  in  losing  him  I  lost  my  greatest  blessing  and 
comfort,  for  he  was  always  that  to  me,  I  was  so  determined  not  to 
let  him  see  my  grief  for  as  long  as  he  lived  that  I  behaved  as  if 
I  felt  no  grief  at  all.  Yet  so  dearly  did  I  love  him  that,  when  I 
saw  his  life  was  ending,  I  felt  as  if  my  very  soul  were  being  torn 
from  me. 

The  Lord  must  be  praised  for  the  death  which  he  died,  for 
his  desire  to  die,  for  the  advice  which  he  gave  us  after  receiving 
Extreme  Unction,  and  for  the  way  he  charged 'us  to  commend 
him  to  God,  to  pray  for  mercy  upon  him  and  to  serve  God  always, 
remembering  how  all  things  come  to  an  end.  He  told  us  with 
tears  how  deeply  grieved  he  was  that  he  had  not  served  God 
better:  he  would  have  liked  to  be  a  friar — and  by  that  I  mean 
to  have  joined  one  of  the  strictest  Orders  in  existence.  I  am 
quite  sure  that  a  fortnight  before  his  death  the  Lord  had  made 
him  realize  that  he  would  not  live  much  longer;  for  down  to 
that  time,  ill  though  he  was,  he  had  not  believed  he  would  die. 
But  during  that  last  fortnight,  though  he  got  much  better  and 
the  doctors  told  him  so,  he  took  no  notice  of  them  but  occupied 
himself  in  putting  his  soul  right  with  God. 

His  chief  ailment  was  a  most  acute  pain  in  the  back,  which 
never  left  him:  at  times  it  was  so  severe  that  it  caused  him 
great  anguish.  I  said  to  him  that,  as  he  used  to  think  so  devoutly 
of  the  Lord  carrying  the  Cross  on  His  back,  he  must  suppose 
His  Majesty  wished  him  to  feel  something  of  what  He  Himself 
had  suffered  under  that  trial.  This  comforted  him  so  much 
that  I  do  not  think  I  ever  heard  him  complain  again.  For  three 
days  he  was  practically  unconscious ;  biit,  on  the  day  of  his  death, 
the  Lord  restored  his  consciousness  so  completely  that  we  were 
astonished,  and  he  remained  conscious  until,  half-way  through 
the  Greed,  which  he  was  repeating  to  himself,  he  died.  He  looked 
like  an  angel;  and  so  he  seemed  to  me,  as  one  might  say,  both 
in  his  soul  and  in  his  disposition,  for  he  was  very  good.  I  do  not 
know  why  I  have  said  this,  unless  it  be  to  blame  myself  the  more 
fof  my  wicked  life;  for,  after  witnessing  such  a  death  and  realizing 
what  his  life  had  been,  I  ought  to  have  tried  to  do  something 


VII]  LIFE  45 

to  resemble  such  a  father  by  growing  better.  His  confessor,  who 
was  a  Dominican1  and  a  very  learned  man,  used  to  say  that  he 
had  not  the  least  doubt  he  had  gone  straight  to  Heaven;  he 
had  been  his  confessor  for  some  years  and  spoke  highly  of  his 
purity  of  conscience. 

This  Dominican  father,  who  was  a  very  good  man  and  had  a 

great  fear  of  God,  was  of  the  very  greatest  help  to  me.   I  made 

my  confessions  to  him  and  he  took  great  pains  to  lead  my  soul 

aright  and  make  me  realize  how  near  I  was  to  perdition.  He  made 

me  communicate  once  a  fortnight;  and  gradually,  as  I  got  to 

know  him,  I  began  to  tell  him  about  my  prayers.   He  told  me 

never  to  leave  these  ofT,  for  they  could  not  possibly  do  me  anything 

but  good.    So  I  began  to  take  them  up  once  more  (though  I 

did  not  flee  from  occasions  of  sin)  and  I  never  again  abandoned 

them.   My  life  became  full  of  trials,  because  by  means  of  prayer 

I  learned  more  and  more  about  my  faults.    On  the  one  hand, 

God  was  calling  me.    On  the  other,  I  was  following  the  world. 

All  the  things  of  God  gave  me  great  pleasure,  yet  I  was  tied  and 

bound  to  those  of  the  world.  It  seemed  as  if  I  wanted  to  reconcile 

these  two  contradictory  things,  so  completely  opposed  to  one 

another — the  life  of  the  spirit  and  the  pleasures  and  joys  and 

pastimes  of  the  senses.   I  suffered  great  trials  in  prayer,  for  the 

spirit  was  not  master  in  me,  but  slave.    I  could  not,  therefore, 

shut  myself  up  within  myself  (the  procedure  in  which  consisted 

my  whole  method  of  prayer)  without  at  the  same  time  shutting 

in  a  thousand  vanities.  I  spent  many  years  in  this  way,  and  now 

I  am  amazed  that  a  person  could  have  gone  on  for  so  long 

without  giving  up  either  the  one  or  the  other.  I  know  quite  well 

that  by  that  time  it  was,no  longer  in  my  power  to  give  up  prayer, 

because  He  who  desired  me  for  His  own  in  order  to  show  me 

greater  favours  held  me  Himself  in  His  hand. 

Oh,  God  help  me!  If  only  I  could  describe  the  occasions  of 
sin  during  these  years  from  which  God  delivered  me,  and  tell 
how  I  plunged  into  them  again  and  how  He  continually  saved 
me  from  the  danger  of  losing  my  entire  reputation !  I  would  show 
by  my  actions  the  kind  of  person  I  was;  yet  the  Lord  would  hide 
the  wrongs  I  did  and  reveal  some  small  virtue,  if  I  had  any, 
and  magnify  it  in  the  eyes  of  all,  so  that  people  invariably  had 
i  high  opinion  of  me.  For,  although  my  vanities  were  some- 
imes  crystal-clear,  they  would  not  believe  them  to  be  such  when 
iiey  observed  other  things  in  me  which  they  considered  good. 
This  happened  because  He  Who  knows  all  things  saw  it  to  be 
accessary,  in  order  that  hereafter  I  might  be  given  some  credence 
when  speaking  of  things  that  concern  His  service.  His  sovereign 

1  P.  Vicente  Barr6n  [Of.  p.  27,  n.  2V  above.] 


46  LIFE  [CHAP. 

bounty  regarded  not  my  great  sins  but  the  desires  which  I  so 
often  had  to  serve  Him.  and  my  grief  at  not  having  in  myself 
the  strength  to  turn  the  desires  into  actions. 

O  Lord  of  my  soul !  How  can  I  magnify  the  favours  which 
Thou  didst  bestow  upon  me  during  these  years?  And  how,  at 
the  very  time  when  I  was  offending  Thee  most  sorely,  didst 
Thou  suddenly  prepare  me,  by  the  deepest  repentance,  to  taste 
Thy  favours  and  graces !  In  truth,  my  King,  Thou  didst  choose 
the  most  delicate  and  grievous  chastisement  that  I  could  possibly 
have  to  bear,  for  well  didst  Thou  know  what  would  cause  me 
the  greatest  pain.  Thou  didst  chastise  my  faults  with  great 
favours.  And  I  do  not  believe  I  am  speaking  foolishly,  though 
well  might  I  become  distraught  when  I  recall  to  mind  my 
ingratitude  and  wickedness.  In  the  condition  I  was  in  at  that 
time,  it  was  much  more  painful  for  me,  when  I  had  fallen  into 
grievous  faults,  to  be  given  favours,  than  to  be  given  punish- 
ments. A  single  one  of  these  faults,  I  feel  sure,  troubled  and 
confounded  and  distressed  me  more  than  many  sicknesses  and 
many  other  grievous  trials  all  put  together.  For  these  last  I 
knew  that  I  deserved  and  thought  that  by  them  I  was  making 
some  amends  for  my  sins,  although  my  sins  were  so  numerous 
that  everything  I  could  do  was  very  little.  But  when  I  find 
myself  receiving  new  favours,  after  making  so  poor  a  return 
for  those  I  have  received  already,  I  experience  a  kind  of  torture 
which  is  terrible  to  me,  as  I  thank  it  must  be  to  all  who  have 
any  knowledge  or  love  of  God.  We  can  deduce  our  own  un- 
worthiness  by  imagining  a  state  of  real  virtue.  This  accounts 
for  my  tears  and  vexation  when  I  took  stock  of  my  own  feelings, 
and  realized  that  I  was  in  such  a  state  as  to  be  on  the  point 
of  falling  again  and  again,  though  my  resolutions  and  desires — 
at  that  time,  I  mean — were  quite  steadfast. 

It  is  a  great  evil  for  a  soul  beset  by  so  many  dangers  to  be 
alone.  I  believe,  if  I  had  had  anyone  with  whom  to  discuss, 
all  this,  it  would  have  helped  me  not  to  fall  again,  if  only  because 
I  should  have  been  ashamed  in  his  sight,  which  I  was  not 
in  the  sight  of  God.  For  this  reason  I  would  advise  those  "who 
practise  prayer,  especially  at  first,  to  cultivate  friendship  and 
intercourse  with  others  of  similar  interests.  This  is  a  most  im- 
portant thing,  if  only  because  we  can  help  each  other  by 
our  prayers,  and  it  is  all  the  more  so  because  it  may  bring 
us  many  other  benefits.  Since  people  can  find  comfort  in  the 
conversation  and  human  sympathy  of  ordinary  friendships,  even 
when  these  are  not  altogether  good,  I  do  not  know  why  anyone 
who  is  beginning  to  love  and  serve  God  in  earnest  should  not  ,„ 
be  allowed  to  discuss  his  joys  and  trials  with  others — and  people 


VII]  LIFE  47 

who  practise  prayer  have  plenty  of  both.  For,  if  the  friendship 
which  such  a  person  desires  to  have  with  His  Majesty  is  true 
friendship,  he  need  not  be  afraid  of  becoming  vainglorious :  as 
soon  as  the  first  motion  of  vainglory  attacks  him,  he  will  repel 
it,  and,  in  doing  so,  gain  merit*  I  believe  that  anyone  who 
discusses  the  subject  with  this  in  mind  will  profit  both  himself 
and  his  hearers,  and  will  be  all  the  wiser  for  it;  and,  without 
realizing  he  is  doing  so,  will  edify  his  friends. 

Anyone  who  could  become  vainglorious  through  discussing 
these  matters  would  become  equally  so  by  hearing  Mass  with 
devotion  in  a  place  where  people  can  see  him,  and  by  doing 
other  things  which  he  is  obliged  to  do  under  pain  of  being 
no  Christian  at  all :  he  cannot  possibly  refrain  from  doing  these 
through  fear  of  vainglory.  This  is  also  most  important  for  souls 
which  are  not  strengthened  in  virtue;  they  have  so  many  enemies 
and  friends  to  incite  them  to  do  what  is  wrong  that  I  cannot 
insist  upon  it  sufficiently.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  scruple  is  an 
invention  of  the  devil,  who  finds  it  extremely  valuable.  He 
uses  it  to  persuade  those  who  are  anxious  to  try  to  love  and 
please  God  to  hide  their  good  desires,  while  inciting  others, 
whose  wills  are  evilly  inclined,  to  reveal  their  wrong  intentions. 
This  happens  so  frequently  that  people  now  seem  to  glory  in 
it  and  the  offences  committed  in  this  way  against  God  are 
published  openly. 

I  do  not  know  if  the  things  I  am  saying  are  nonsense :  if  so, 
Your  Reverence  must  erase  them;  if  not,  I  beg  you  to  help 
my  simplicity  by  adding  to  them  freely.  For  people  trouble  so 
little  about  things  pertaining  to  the  service  of  God  that  we 
must  all  back  each  other  up1  if  those  of  us  who  serve  Him  are 
to  make  progress.  People  think,  it  a  good  thing  to  follow  the 
pleasures  and  vanities  of  the  world  and  there  are  few  who  look 
askance  at  these;  but  if  a  single  person  begins  to  devote  himself 
to  God,  there  are  so  many  to  speak  ill  of  him  that  self-defence 
compels  him  to  seek  the  companionship  of  others  until  he  is 
strong  enough  not  to  be  depressed  by  suffering.  Unless  he  does 
this  he  will  find  himself  in  continual  difficulties.  It  must  have 
been  for  this  reason,  I  think,  that  some  of  the  saints  were  in  the 
habit  of  going  into  the  desert.  It  is  a  kind  of  humility  for  a 
man  not  to  trust  himself  but  to  believe  that  God  will  help  him 
in  dealing  with  those  with  whom  he  has  intercourse.  Charity 
grows  when  it  is  communicated  to  others  and  from  this  there 
result  a  thousand  blessings.  I  should  not  dare  to  say  this  if  I 
had  not  had  a  great  deal  of  experience  of  its  importance.  It 
is  true  that  of  all  who  are  born  I  am  the  weakest  and  wickedest; 

1  [The  metaphor,  hacerse  espaldas,  is  St.  Teresa's.] 


48  LIFE  [CHAP. 

but  I  believe  that  anyone,  however  strong,  who  humbles  himself 
and  trusts  not  in  himself  but  in  someone  who  has  experience, 
will  lose  nothing.  As  regards  myself,  I  can  say  that,  if  the  Lord 
had  not  revealed  this  truth  to  me  and  given  me  the  means  of 
speaking  very  frequently  with  people  who  practise  prayer,  I 
should  have  gone  on  rising  and  falling  again  until  I  fell  right 
into  hell.  For  I  had  many  friends  who  helped  me  to  fall;  but, 
when  it  came  to  rising  again,  I  found  myself  so  completely  alone 
that  I  marvel  now  that  I  did  not  remain  where  I  was,  and  I 
praise  the  mercy  of  God,  Who  alone  gave  me  His  hand.  May 
He  be  blessed  for  ever.  Amen. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Treats  of  the  great  benefit  which  she  derived  from  not  entirely  giving  up 
prayer  lest  she  should  ruin  her  soul.  Describes  the  excellence  of 
prayer  as  a  help  towards  regaining  what  one  has  lost.  Urges  all 
to  practise  it.  Says  what  great  gain  it  brings  and  how  great  a 
benefit  it  is,  even  for  those  who  may  later  give  it  up,  to  spend  some 
time  on  a  thing  which  is  so  good. 

It  is  not  without  reason  that  I  have  dwelt  upon  this  period 
of  my  life  at  such  length.  I  know  well  that  nobody  will  derive 
any  pleasure  from  reading  about  anyone  so  wicked,  and  I  sin- 
cerely hope  that  those  who  read  this  will  hold  me  in  abhorrence, 
when  they  see  that  a  soul  which  had  received  such  great  favours 
could  be  so  obstinate  and  ungrateful.  I  wish  I  could  be  allowed 
to  describe  the  many  occasions  on  which  I  failed  God  during 
this  period  through  not  having  leaned  upon  this  strong  pillar 
of  prayer. 

I  spent  nearly  twenty  years  on  that  stormy  sea,  often  falling 
in  this  way  and  each  time  rising  again,  but  to  little  purpose, 
as  I  would  only  fall  once  more.  My  life  was  so  far  from  perfection 
that  I  took  hardly  any  notice  of  venial  sins;  as  to  mortal  sins, 
although  afraid  of  them,  I  was  not  so  much  so  as  I  ought  to 
have  been;  for  I  did  not  keep  free  from  the  danger  of  falling 
into  them.  I  can  testify  that  this  is  one  of  the  most  grievous 
kinds  of  life  which  I  think  can  be  imagined,  for  I  had  neither 
any  joy  in  God  nor  any  pleasure  in  the  world.  When  I  was 
in  the  midst  of  worldly  pleasures,  I  was  distressed  by  the  remem- 
brance of  what  I  owed  to  God;  when  I  was  with  God,  I  grew 
restless  because  of  worldly  affections.  This  is  so  grievous  a  con- 
flict that  I  do  not  know  how  I  managed  to  endure  it  for  a  month, 


VIII]  LIFE  49 

much  less  for  so  many  years.  Nevertheless,  I  can  see  how  great 
was  the  Lord's  mercy  to  me,  since,  while  I  was  still  having 
intercourse  with  the  world.  He  gave  me  courage  to  practise 
prayer.  I  say  courage,  because  I  know  nothing  in  the  world 
that  needs  more  of  this  than  to  be  dealing  treacherously  with 
the  King  and  to  know  that  He  is  aware  of  it  and  yet  never  to 
leave  His  presence.  For,  although  we  are  always  in  the  presence 
of  God,  it  seems  to  me  that  those  who  practise  prayer  are  specially 
so,  because  they  can  see  all  the  time  that  He  is  looking  at  them; 
whereas  others  may  be  in  God's  presence  for  several  days  with- 
out ever  remembering  that  He  can  see  them. 

It  is  true  that,  during  these  years,  there  were  many  months — 
once,  I  believe,  there  was  as  much  as  a  whole  year — in  which 
I  kept  myself  from  offending  the  Lord,  devoted  myself  earnestly 
to  prayer  and  took  various  and  very  careful  precautions  not  to 
offend  Him.  As  all  that  I  have  written  is  set  down  in  the  strictest 
truth,  I  am  saying  this  now.  But  I  remember  little  about  these 
good  days,  so  there  can  have  been  few  of  them,  whereas  the 
bad  ones  must  have  been  numerous.  Yet  not  many  days  would 
pass  without  my  spending  long  periods  in  prayer,  unless  I  was 
very  ill  or  very  busy.  When  I  was  ill,  I  was  nearer  to  God; 
and  I  contrived  that  the  persons  who  were  around  me  should 
be  near  Him  too  and  I  begged  the  Lord  that  this  might  be  so 
and  often  spoke  of  Him.  So,  not  counting  the  year  I  have  referred 
to,  more  than  eighteen  of  the  twenty-eight  years  which  have 
gone  by  since  I  began  prayer  have  been  spent  in  this  battle  and 
conflict  which  arose  from  my  having  relations  both  with  God 
and  with  the  world.  During  the  remaining  years,  of  which  I 
have  still  to  speak,  the  conflict  has  not  been  light,  but  its  causes 
have  changed;  as  I  believe  I  have  been  serving  God  and  have 
come  to  know  the  vanity  inherent  in  the  world,  everything  has 
gone  smoothly,  as  I  shall  say  later. 

Now  the  reason  why  I  have  related  all  this  is,  as  I  have  already 
said,  to  make  evident  God's  mercy  and  my  own  ingratitude. 
Another  reason  is  to  show  what  great  blessings  God  grants  to 
a  soul  when  He  prepares  it  to  love  the  practice  of  prayer,  though 
it  may  not  be  as  well  prepared  already  as  it  should  be;  and  how, 
if  that  soul  perseveres,  notwithstanding  the  sins,  temptations  and 
falls  of  a  thousand  kinds  into  which  the  devil  leads  it,  the  Lord, 
I  am  certain,  will  bring  it  to -the  harbour  of  salvation,  just  as, 
so  far  as  can  at  present  be  told,  He  has  brought  me.  May  His 
Majesty  grant  that  I  may  never  again  be  lost. 

The  blessings  possessed  by  one  who  practises  prayer — I  mean 
mental  prayer — have  been  Written  of  by  many  saints  and  good 
men.  Glory  be  to  God  for  this !  If  it  were  not  so,  I  should  not 


50  LIFE  [CHAP. 

have  assurance  enough  (though  I  am  not  very  humble)  to  dare 
to  speak  of  it.  I  can  say  what  I  know  by  experience — namely, 
that  no  one  who  has  begun  this  practice,  however  many  sins 
he  may  commit,  should  ever  forsake  it.  For  it  is  the  means  by 
which  we  may  amend  our  lives  again,  and  without  it  amend- 
ment will  be  very  much  harder.  So  let  him  not  be  tempted  by 
the  devil,  as  I  was,  to  give  it  up  for  reasons  of  humility,  but  let 
him  believe  that  the  words  cannot  fail  of  Him  Who  says  that, 
if  we  truly  repent  and  determine  not  to  offend  Him,  He  will 
resume  His  former  friendship  with  us  and  grant  us  the  favours 
which  He  granted  aforetime,  and  sometimes  many  more,  if  our 
repentance  merits  it.1  And  anyone  who  has  not  begun  to  pray, 
I  beg,  for  love  of  the  Lord,  not  to  miss  so  great  a  blessing.  There 
is  no  place  here  for  fear,  but  only  for  desire.  For,  even  if  a 
person  fails  to  make  progress,  or  to  strive  after  perfection,  so 
that  he  may  merit  the  consolations  and  favours  given  to  the 
perfect  by  God,  yet  he  will  gradually  gain  a  knowledge  of  the 
road  to  Heaven.  And  if  he  perseveres,  I  hope  in  the  mercy  of 
God,  Whom  no  one  has  ever  taken  for  a  Friend  without  being 
rewarded;  and  mental  prayer,  in  my  view,  is  nothing  but  friendly 
intercourse,  and  frequent  solitary  converse,  with  Him  Who  we 
know  loves  us.  If  love  is  to  be  true  and  friendship  lasting,  cer- 
tain conditions  are  necessary:  on  the  Lord's  side  we  know  these 
cannot  fail,  but  our  nature  is  vicious,  sensual  and  ungrateful. 
You  cannot  therefore  succeed  in  loving  Him  as  much  as  He 
loves  you,  because  it  is  not  in  your  nature  to  do  so.  If,  then, 
you  do  not  yet  love  Him,  you  will  realize  how  much  it  means 
to  you  to  have  His  friendship  and  how  much  He  loves  you, 
and  you  will  gladly  endure'  the  troubles  which  arise  from  being2 
so  much  with  One  Who  is  so  different  from  you. 

O  infinite  goodness  of  my  God!  It  is  thus  that  I  seem  to  see 
both  myself  and  Thee.  O  Joy  of  the  angels,  how  I  long,  when 
I  think  of  this,  to  be  wholly  consumed  in  love  for  Thee !  How 
true  it  is  that  Thou  dost  bear  with  those  who  cannot  bear  Thee 
to  be  with  them !  Oh,  how  good  a  Friend  art  Thou,  my  Lord ! 
How  Thou  dost  comfort  us  and  suffer  us  and  wait  until  our 
nature  becomes  more  like  Thine  and  meanwhile  dost  bear  with 
it  as  it  is!  Thou  dost  remember  the  times  when  we  Itfve  Thee, 
my  Lord,  and,  when  for  a  moment  we  repent,  Thou  dost  forget 
how  we  have  offended  Thee.  I  have  seen  this  clearly  in  my 
own  life,  and  I  cannot  conceive,  my  Creator,  why  the  whole 

1  [An  apparent  reference  to  Ezechiel  xviii,  21.] 

8  [Lit:  "the  grief  (pena)  of  being.  .  .  ."  "Discomfort,"  "embarrassment,"  "de- 
pression" would  be  modern  equivalents  of  the  substantive,  but  none  of  these  is  suffi-* 
cxently  comprehensive.  St.  Teresa  is  referring  to  all  the  varied  reactions  produced 
in  man  by  lie  contact  between  his  littleness  and  the  greatness  of  God .] 


VIII]  LIFE  51 

world  does  not  strive  to  draw  near  to  Thee  in  this  intimate 
friendship.  Those  of  us  who  are  wicked,  and  whose  nature  is 
not  like  Thine,  ought  to  draw  near  to  Thee  so  that  Thou  rnayest 
make  them  good.  They  should  allow  Thee  to  be  with  them 
for  at  least  two  hours  each  day,  even  though  they  may  not  be 
with  Thee,  but  are  perplexed,  as  I  was,  with  a  thousand  worldly 
cares  and  thoughts.  In  exchange  for  the  effort  which  it  costs 
them  to  desire  to  be  in  such  good  company  (for  Thou  knowest. 
Lord,  that  at  first  this  is  as  much  as  they  can  do  and  sometimes 
they  can  do  no  more  at  all)  Thou  dost  prevent  the  devils  from 
assaulting  them  so  that  each  day  they  are  able  to  do  them  less 
harm,  and  Thou  givest  them  strength  to  conquer.  Yea,  Life  of 
all  lives,  Thou  slayest  none  of  those  that  put  their  trust  in 
Thee  and  desire  Thee  for  their  Friend;  rather  dost  Thou  sustain 
their  bodily  life  with  greater  health  and  give  life  to  their 
souls. 

I  do  not  understand  the  fears  of  those  who  are  afraid  to  begin 
mental  prayer:  I  do  not  know  what  they  are  afraid  o£  The 
devil  does  well  to  instil  fear  into  us  so  that  he  may  do  us  real 
harm.  By  making  me  afraid  he  stops  me  from  thinking  of  the 
ways  in  which  I  have  offended  God  and  of  all  I  owe  Him  and 
of  the  reality  of  hell  and  of  glory  and  of  the  great  trials  and 
griefs  which  He  suffered  for  me.  That  was  the  whole  extent 
of  my  prayer,  and  remained  so  for  as  long  as  I  was  subject  to 
these  perils,  and  it  was  about  these  things  that  I  used  to  think 
whenever  I  could;  and  very  often,  over  a  period  of  several  years, 
I  was  more  occupied  in  wishing  my  hour  of  prayer  were  over, 
and  in  listening  whenever  the  clock  struck,  than  in  thinking 
of  things  that  were  good.  Again  and  again,  I  would  rather 
have  done  any  severe  penance  that  might  have  been  given  me 
than  practise  recollection  as  a  preliminary  to  prayer.  It  is  a 
fact  that,  either  through  the  intolerable  power  of  the  devil's 
assaults  or  because  of  my  own  bad  habits,  I  did  not  at  once 
betake  myself  to  prayer;  and  whenever  I  entered  the  oratory 
I  used  to  feel  so  depressed  that  I  had  to  summon  up  all  my 
courage  to  make  myself  pray  at  all.  (People  say  that  I  have 
little  courage,  and  it  is  dear  that  God  has  given  me  much  more 
than  to  most  women,  only  I  have  made  bad  use  of  it.)  In  the 
end,  the  Lord  would  come  to  my  help.  Afterwards,  when  I  had 
forced  myself  to  pray,  I  would  find  that  I  had  more  tranquillity 
and  happiness  than  at  certain  other  times  when  I  had  prayed 
because  I  had  wanted  to. 

Now  if  the  Lord  bore  for  so  long  with  such  a  wicked  creature 
as  I — and  it  is  quite  clear  that  it  was  in  this  way  that  all  my 
wrong  was  put  right — what  other  person,  however  wicked  he 


52  LIFE  [CHAP. 

may  be,  can  have  any  reason  for  fear?  For,  bad  though  he  be, 
he  will  not  remain  so  for  all  the  years  I  did  after  having  received 
so  many  favours  from  the  Lord.  Who  can  possibly  despair,  when 
He  bore  so  long  with  me,  merely  because  I  desired  and  sought 
out  some  place  and  time  for  Him  to  be  with  me — and  that  often 
happened  without  my  willing  it  because  I  forced  myself  to  seek 
it,  or  rather  the  Lord  Himself  forced  me?  If,  then,  prayer  is  so 
good,  and  so  necessary,  for  those  who  do  not  serve  God,  but 
offend  Him,  and  if  no  one  can  possibly  discover  any  harm  that 
prayer  can  do  him  which  would  not  be  much  greater  if  he  did 
not  practise  it,  why  should  those  who  serve  and  desire  to  serve 
God  give  it  up?  Really  I  cannot  see  any  reason,  unless  it  is  that 
they  want  to  endure  the  trials  of  life  by  adding  more  trials  to 
them  and  to  shut  the  door  upon  God  so  that  Fie  shall  not 
give  them  the  joy  of  prayer.  I  am  indeed  sorry  for  such  people, 
for  they  are  serving  God  at  great  cost  to  themselves.  But  when 
people  practise  prayer  the  Lord  Himself  bears  the  cost:  in 
exchange  for  a  little  labour  on  their  part,  He  gives  them  such 
consolation  as  will  enable  them  to  bear  their  trials. 

As  I  shall  have  a  great  deal  to  say  about  these  consolations 
which  the  Lord  gives  to  those  who  persevere  in  prayer,  I  am  saying 
nothing  here :  I  will  only  observe  that  prayer  is  the  door  to  those 
great  favours  which  He  has  bestowed  upon  me.  Once  the  door 
is  closed,  I  do  not  see  how  He  will  bestow  them;  for,  though 
He  may  wish  to  take  His  delight  in  a  soul  and  to  give  the  soul 
delight,  there  is  no  way  for  Him  to  do  so,  since  He  must  have  it 
alone  and  pure, -and  desirous  of  receiving  His  favours.  If  we 
place  numerous  hindrances  in  His  path,  and  do  nothing  to  remove 
them,  how  can  He  come  to  us?  And  yet  we  wish  God  to  grant 
us  great  favours! 

In  order  that  it  may  be  seen  what  mercy  He  showed  me  and 
what  a  great  blessing  it  was  for  me  that  I  did  not  give  up  prayer 
and  reading,  I  will  now  describe  something  which  it  is  very  im- 
portant should  be  understood — the  assaults  which  the  devil  makes 
upon  a  soul  in  order  to  conquer  it  for  his  own,  and  the  art  and  the 
loving-kindness  with  which  the  Lord  endeavours  to  bring  it  back 
to  Himself.  My  readers  will  then  be  on  the  watch  for  the  perils  for 
which  I  was  not  watchful  myself.  And,  above  all,  I  beg  them,  for 
the  love  of  Our  Lord,  and  for  the  great  love -wherewith  He  is 
continually  seeking  to  bring  us  back  to  Himself,  to  be  on  the  watch 
for  occasions  of  sin;  for,  once  we  are  in  the  midst  of  these,  we  have 
no  cause  for  confidence,  being  attacked,  as  we  are,  by  so  many 
enemies  and  being  so  weak  when  it  comes  to  defending  ourselves. 

I  wish  I  knew  how  to  describe  the  captivity  of  my  soul  at  that 
time.  I  fully  realized  that  I  was  a  prisoner,  and  yet  I  could  not  see 


VIII]  LIFE  53 

how,  nor  could  I  really  believe  that  things  which  my  confessors 
did  not  represent  as  being  very  serious  were  as  wrong  as  in  my 
soul  I  felt  them^  to  be.  One  of  these  confessors,  when  I  went  to 
him  with  a  scruple,  told  me  that,  even  if  I  were  experiencing  high 
contemplation,  such  intercourse  and  such  occasions  of  sin  were 
not  doing  me  any  harm.  This  was  at  the  end  of  that  period,  when, 
by  the  grace  of  God,  I  was  withdrawing  farther  and  farther  from 
grave  perils,  though  I  did  not  altogether  flee  from  the  occasions 
of  them.  When  my  confessors  saw  that  I  had  good  desires  and  was 
spending  my  time  in  prayer,  they  thought  I  was  doing  a  great  deal. 
But  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  knew  that  I  was  not  doing  what  I  was 
bound  to  do  for  Him  to  Whom  I  owed  so  much.  I  regret  now  all 
that  my  soul  suffered  and  the  scant  help  it  had  from  anyone  save 
God,  and  the  numerous  opportunities  that  were  given  it  to  in- 
dulge its  pastimes  and  pleasures  by  those  who  said  that  these  were 
lawful. 

Sermons,  again,  caused  me  no  small  torture,  for  I  was  extremely 
fond  of  them,  so  that  if  I  heard  anyone  preach  a  good,  earnest 
sermon,  I  would  conceive  a  special  affection  for  him,  without  in 
any  way  trying  to  do  so:  I  do  not  know  to  what  this  was  due. 
A  sermon  rarely  seemed  to  me  so  bad  that  I  failed  to  listen  to  it 
with  pleasure,  even  when  others  who  heard  it  considered  that  the 
preaching  was  not  good.  If  it  were  good,  it- was  a  very  special 
refreshment  to  me.  To  speak  of  God,  or  to  listen  to  others  speaking 
of  Him,  hardly  ever  wearied  me — this,  of  course,  after  I  began  to 
practise  prayer.  In  one  way  I  used  to  find  great  comfort  in  sermons ; 
in  another,  they  would  torture  me,  because  they  would  make  me 
realize  that  I  was  not  what  I  ought  to  be,  or  anything  approaching 
it.  I  used  to  beseech  the  Lord  to  help  me;  but  I  now  believe  I 
must  have  failed  to  put  my  whole  confidence  in  His  Majesty  and 
to  have  a  complete  distrust  in  myself.  I  sought  for  a  remedy, 
and  took  great  trouble  to  find  one,  but  I  could  not  have  realized 
that  all  our  efforts  are  unavailing  unless  we  completely  give  up 
having  confidence  in  ourselves  and  fix  it  all  upon  God.  I  wanted 
to  live,  for  I  knew  quite  well  that  I  was  not  living  at  all 
but  battling  with  a  shadow  of  death;  but  there  was  no  one  to 
give  me  life  and  I  was  unable  to  take  it  for  myself.  He  Who  could 
have  given  it  me  was  right  not  to  help  me,  since  He  had  so  often 
brought  me  back  to  Himself  and  I  had  as  often  left  Him. 


54  LIFE  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Describes  the  means  by  which  the  Lord  began  to  awaken  her  soul  and  to 
give  her  light  amid  such  great  darkness,  and  to  strengthen  the  virtues 
in  her  so  that  she  should  not  of  end  Him. 

By  this  time  my  soul  was  growing  weary,  and,  though  it  desired 
to  rest,  the  miserable  habits  which  now  enslaved  it  would  not 
allow  it  to  do  so.  It  happened  that,  entering  the  oratory  one  day, 
I  saw  an  image  which  had  been  procured  for  a  certain  festival 
that  was  observed  in  the  house  and  had  been  taken  there  to  be 
kept  for  that  purpose.  It  represented  Christ  sorely  wounded;1 
and  so  conducive  was  it  to  devotion  that  when  I  looked  at  it  I 
was  deeply  moved  to  see  Him  thus,  so  well  did  it  picture  what  He 
suffered  for  us.  So  great  was  my  distress  when  I  thought  how  ill 
I  had  repaid  Him  for  those  wounds  that  I  felt  as  if  my  heart  were 
breaking,  and  I  threw  myself  down  beside  Him,  shedding  floods 
of  tears  and  begging  Him  to  give  me  strength  once  for  all  so  that 
I  might  not  offend  Him. 

I  had  a  great  devotion  to  the  glorious  Magdalen  and  often 
thought  t)f  her  conversion,  especially  when  I  communicated,  for, 
knowing  that  the  Lord  was  certainly  within  me  then,  I  would  place 
myself  at  His  feet,  thinking  that  my  tears  would  not  be  rejected. 
I  did  not  know  what  I  was  saying;  but  in  allowing  me  to  shed 
those  tears  He  was  very  gracious  to  me,  since  I  so  soon  forgot  my 
grief;  and  I  used  to  commend  myself  to  that  glorious  Saint  so 
that  she  might  obtain  pardon  for  me. 

But  on  this  last  occasion  when  I  saw  that  image  of  which  I  am 
speaking,  I  think  I  must  have  made  greater  progress,  because  I 
had  quite  lost  trust  in  myself  and  was  placing  all  my  confidence 
in  God.  I  believe  I  told  Him  then  that  I  would  not  rise  from  that 
spot  until  He  had  granted  me  what  I  was  beseeching  of  Him. 
And  I  feel  sure  that  this  did  me  good,  for  from  that  time  onward 
I  began  to  improve.  My  method  of  prayer  was  this.  As  I  could 
not  reason  with  my  mind,  I  would  try  to  make  pictures  of  Christ 
inwardly;  and  I  used  to  think  'I  felt  better  when  I  dwelt  on  those 
parts  of  His  life  when  He  was  most  often  alone.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  His  being  alone  and  afflicted,  like  a  person  in  need, 
made  it  possible  for  me  to  approach  Him.  I  had  many  simple 
thoughts  of  this  kind.  I  was  particularly  attached  to  the  prayer 

1  Tradition  has  it  that  this  was  an  Ecce  Homo,  which  is  still  venerated  in  the  Convent 
of  the  Incarnation,  though  some  writers  have  described  it  as  a  representation  of  Christ 
bound  to  the  Column. 


IX]  LIFE  55 

in  the  Garden,  where  I  would  go  to  keep  Him  company.  I  would 
think  of  the  sweat  and  of  the  affliction  He  endured  there.  I  wished 
I  could  have  wiped  that  grievous  sweat  from  His  face,  but  I 
remember  that  I  never  dared  to  resolve  to  do  so,  for  the  gravity 
of  my  sins  stood  in  the  way.  I  used  to  remain  with  Him  there  for 
as  long  as  my  thoughts  permitted  it:  I  had  many  thoughts  which 
tormented  me. 

For  many  years,  on  most  nights  before  I  fell  asleep,  when  I 
would  commend  myself  to  God  so  as  to  sleep  well,  I  used  to  think, 
for  a  little  of  that  scene — the  prayer  in  the  Garden — and  this 
even  before  I  was  a  nun,  for  I  was  told  that  many  indulgences 
could  be  gained  by  so  doing;  and  I  feel  sure  that  my  soul  gained 
a  great  deal  in  this  way,  because  I  began  to  practise  prayer 
without  knowing  what  it  was,  and  the  very  habitualness  of  the 
custom  prevented  me  from  abandoning  it,  just  as  I  never  omitted 
making  the  sign  of  the  Cross  before  going  to  sleep. 

To  return  now  to  what  I  was  saying  about  the  torture  caused 
me  by  my  thoughts :  this  method  of  praying  in  which  the  mind 
makes  no  reflections  means  that  the  soul  must  either  gain  a  great 
deal  or  lose  itself— I  mean  by  its  attention  going  astray.1  If 
it  advances,  it  goes  a  long  way,  because  it  is  moved  by  love. 
But  those  who  arrive  thus  far  will  do  so  only  at  great  cost  to  them- 
selves, save  when  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  call  them  very  speedily 
to  the  Prayer  of  Quiet,  as  He  has  called  a  few  people  whom  I 
know.  It  is  a  good  thing  for  those  who  follow  this  method  to 
have  a  book  at  hand,  so  that  they  may  quickly  recollect  themselves. 
It  used  also  to  help  me  to  look  at  a  field,  or  water,  or  flowers. 
These  reminded  me  of  the  Creator — I  mean,  they  awakened  me, 
helped  me  to  recollect  myself  and  thus  served  me  as  a  book; 
they  reminded  me,  too,  of  my  ingratitude  and  sins.  But  when  it 
came  to  heavenly  things,  or  to  any  sublime  subject,  my  mind 
was  so  stupid  that  I  could  never  imagine  them  at  all,  until  the 
Lord  showed  them  to  me  in  another  way. 

I  had  so  little  ability  for  picturing  things  in  my  mind  that  if  I 
did  not  actually  see  a  thing  I  could  not  use  my  imagination,  as 
other  people  do,  who  can  make  pictures  to  themselves  and  so 
become  recollected.  Of  Christ  as  Man  I  could  only  think:  however 
much  I  read  about  His  beauty  and  however  often  I  looked  at 
pictures  of  Him,  I  could  never  form  any  picture  of  Him  myself. 
I  was  like  a  person  who  is  blind,  or  in  the  dark:  he  may  be  talking 
to  someone;  and  kn'ow  that  he  is  with  him,  because  he  is  quite  sure 
he  is  there — I  mean,  he  understands  and  believes  he  is  there — 
but  he  cannot  see  him.  Thus  it  was  with  me  when  I  thought 

1  [The  original  has  an  untranslatable  play  upon  words:  /£#.,  "must  be  (stc)  gained 
or  lost  a  great  deal — I  mean  (its)  meditation  (will  be)  lost."] 


56  LIFE  [CHAP. 

of  Our  Lord.  It  was  for  this  reason  that  I  was  so  fond  of  pictures. 
Unhappy  are  those  who  through  their  own  fault  lose  this  blessing ! 
It  really  looks  as  if  they  do  not  love  the  Lord,  for  if  they  loved 
Him  they  would  delight  in  looking  at  pictures  of  Him,  just  as  they 
take  pleasure  in  seeing  pictures  of  anyone  else  whom  they  love. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  I  was  given  the  Confessions  of  Saint 
Augustine^  and  I  think  the  Lord  must  have  ordained  this,  for  I 
did  not  ask  for  the  book  nor  had  I  ever  seen  it.  I  have  a  great 
affection  for  Saint  Augustine,  because  the  convent  in  which  I  had 
lived  before  becoming  a  nun  belonged  to  his  Order,  and  also 
because  he  had  been  a  sinner.  I  used  to  find  a  great  deal  of  com- 
fort in  reading  about  the  lives  of  saints  who  had  been  sinners  before 
the  Lord  brought  them  back  to  Himself.  As  He  had  forgiven  them 
I  thought  that  He  might  do  the  same  for  me.  There  was  only  one 
thing  that  troubled  me,  and  this  I  have  already  mentioned: 
namely  that,  after  the  Lord  had  once  called  them,  they  did  not  fall 
again,  whereas  I  had  fallen  so  often  that  I  was  distressed  by  it.  But 
when  I  thought  of  His  love  for  me,  I  would  take  heart  once  more, 
for  I  never  doubted  His  mercy,  though  I  often  doubted  myself. 

Oh,  God  help  me!  How  amazed  I  am  when  I  think  how  hard 
my  heart  was  despite  all  the  help  I  had  received  from  Him! 
It  really  frightens  me  to  remember  how  little  I  could  do  by  myself 
and  how  I  was  so  tied  and  bound  that  I  could  not  resolve  to  give 
myself  wholly  to  God.  When  I  started  to  read  the  *  Confessions, 
I  seemed  to  see  myself  in  them  and  I  began  to  commend  myselif 
often  to  that  glorious  Saint.  When  I  got  as  far  as  his  conversion 
and  read  how  he  heard  that  voice  in  the  garden,2  it  seemed 
exactly  as  if  the  Lord  were  speaking  in  that  way  to  me,  or  so  my 
heart  felt.  I  remained  for  a  long  time  dissolved  in  tears,  in  great 
distress  and  affliction.  Dear  God,  what  a  soul  suffers  and  what  tor- 
ments it  endures  when  it  loses  its  freedom  to  be  its  own  master !  I  am 
astonished  now  that  I  was  able  to  live  in  such  a  state  of  torment. 
God  be  praised,  Who  gave  me  life  to  forsake  such  utter  death ! 

I  believe  my  soul  gained  great  strength  from  the  Divine  Majesty: 
He  must  have  heard  my  cries  and  had  compassion  on  all  my  tears. 
I  began  to  long  to  spend  more  time  with  Him,  and  to  drive  away 
occasions  of  sin,  for,  once  they  had  gone,  I  would  feel  a  new  love 
for  His  Majesty.  I  knew  that,  so  far  as  I  could  tell,  I  loved  Him, 
but  I  did  not  know,  as  I  should  have  done,  what  true  love  of  God 

1 A  Spanish  translation  of  the  Confessions  was  made  by  a  Portuguese,  P.  Sebastian 
Toscano,  and  dedicated  by  him  to  Dona  Leonor  de  Mascarenas,  a  great  friend  of  St. 
Teresa  (Cf.  Foundations,  Chap.  XVII:  Vol.  Ill,  p.  81,  below) :  the  dedication  is  dated 
January  15,  1554.  [If,  as  is  likely,  this  was  the  edition  given  to  the  Saint,  the  incident 
supports  a  later  date  than  1554-5,  which  is  the  date  commonly  given,  for  her  "second 
conversion  ".] 

*  [Confessions,  Bk.  VIII,  Chap.  XII.] 


IX]  LIFE  57 

really  means.  I  think  I  had  not  yet  quite  prepared  myself  to  want 
to  serve  Him  when  His  Majesty  began  to  grant  me  favours  again. 
It  really  seems  that  the  Lord  found  a  way  to  make  me  desire  to 
receive  what  others  strive  to  acquire  with  great  labour — that  is  to 
say,  during  these  latter  years,  He  gave  me  consolations  and  favours. 
I  never  presumed  to  beg  Him  to  give  me  either  these  things  or 
tenderness  in  devotion :  I  only  asked  for  grace  not  to  offend  Him 
and  for  the  pardon  of  my  grievous  sins.  Knowing  how  grievous  they 
were,  I  never  dared  consciously  to  desire  favours  or  consolations. 
His  compassion,  I  think,  worked  in  me  abundantly,  and  in  truth 
He  showed  me  great  mercy  in  allowing  me  to  be  with  Him  and 
bringing  me  into  His  presence,  which  I  knew  I  should  not  have 
entered  had  He  not  so  disposed  it.  Only  once  in  my  life — at  a 
time  when  I  was  suffering  from  great  aridity — do  I  remember 
having  asked  Him  for  consolations,  and  when  I  realized  what 
I  was  doing  I  became  so  distressed  that  my  very  shame  at  finding 
myself  so  lacking  in  humility  gave  me  what  I  had  presumed  to 
ask.  I  knew  quite  well  that  it  was  lawful  to  ask  for  it,  but  I  thought 
it  was  only  so  for  those  who  have  done  all  in  their  power  to  obtain 
true  devotion  by  not  offending  God  and  by  being  ready  and 
determined  to  do  all  that  is  good.  Those  tears  of  mine,  as  they  did 
not  obtain  for  me  what  I  desired,  seemed  to  me  effeminate  and 
weak.  But  all  the  same  I  think  they  were  of  some  benefit  to  me; 
for,  as  I  say,  especially  after  those  two  occasions  when  they  caused 
me  such  compunction  and  such  distress  of  heart,  I  began  to  devote 
myself  more  to  prayer  and  to  have  less  to  do  with  things  that  were 
hurtful  for  me:  these  last  I  did  not  wholly  abandon,  but,  as  I  say, 
God  kept  on  ^helping  me  to  turn  from  them.  As  His  Majesty 
was  only  awaiting  some  preparedness  on  my  part,  His  spiritual 
favours  continually  increased,  in  the  way  I  shall  describe.  It  is  not 
usual  for  the  Lord  to  give  them  save  to  those  who  have  a  greater 
purity  of  conscience. 


CHAPTER  X 

Begins  to  describe  the  favours  which  the  Lord  granted  her  in  prayer. 
Explains  what  part  we  ourselves  can  play  here,  and  how  important 
it  is  that  we  should  understand  the  favours  which  the  Lord  is  granting 
us.  Asks  those  to  whom  she  is  sending  this  that  the  remainder  of  what 
she  writes  may  be  kept  secret,  since  she  has  been  commanded  to 
describe  in  great  detail  the  favours  granted  her  by  the  Lord. 

I  used  sometimes,  as  I  have  said,  to  experience  in  an  ele- 
mentary form,  and  very  fleetingly,  what  I  shall  now  describe* 


58  LIFE  [CHAP. 

When  picturing  Christ  in  the  way  I  have  mentioned,  and  some- 
times even  when  reading,  I  used  unexpectedly  to  experience  a 
consciousness  of  the  presence  of  God,  of  such  a  kind  that  I  could 
not  possibly  doubt  that  He  was  within  me  or  that  I  was  wholly 
engulfed  in  Him.  This  was  in  no  sense  a  vision:  I  believe  it  is 
called  mystical  theology.  The  soul  is  suspended  in  such  a  way  that 
it  seems  to  be  completely  outside  itself.  The  will  loves ;  the  memory, 
I  think,  is  almost  lost;  while  the  understanding,  I  believe,  though 
it  is  not  lost,  does  not  reason — I  mean  that  it  does  not  work,  but 
is  amazed  at  the  extent  of  all  it  can  understand;  for  God  wills 
it  to  realize  that  it  understands  nothing,  of  what  His  Majesty 
represents  to  it. 

Previously  to  this,  I  had  experienced  a  tenderness  in  devotion, 
some  part  of  which,  I  think,  can  be  obtained  by  one's  own 
efforts.  This  is  a  favour  neither  wholly  of  sense  nor  wholly  of 
spirit,  but  entirely  the  gift  of  God.  It  seems,  however,  that  we 
can  do  a  great  deal  towards  the  obtaining  of  it  by  reflecting  on 
our  lowliness  and  our  ingratitude  to  God,  on  the  great  things 
that  He  has  done  for  us,  on  His  Passion,  with  its  grievous  pains, 
and  on  His  life,  which  was  so  full  of  afflictions.  We  can  also 
do  much  by  rejoicing  in  the  contemplation  of  His  works,  His 
greatness.  His  love  for  us,  and  a  great  deal  more.  Anyone 
really  anxious  to  make  progress  often  lights  upon  such  things 
as  these,  though  he  may  not  be  going  about  looking  for  them. 
If  to  this  there  be  added  a  little  love,  the  soul  is  comforted,  the 
heart  melts  and  tears  begin  to  flow:  sometimes  we  seem  to 
produce  these  tears  by  force;  at  other  times  the  Lord  seems  to  be 
drawing  them  from  us  and  we  cannot  resist  Him.  For  the  trifling 
pains  we  have  taken  His  Majesty  appears  to  be  requiting  us 
with  the  great  gift  of  the  conifort  which  comes  to  a  soul  from 
seeing  that  it  is  weeping  for  so  great  a  Lord;  and  I  do  not  wonder 
at  this,  for  it  has  ample  reason  to  be  comforted.  For  here  it  finds 
encouragement,  and  here  it  finds  joy. 

The  comparison  which  now  suggests  itself  to  me  is,  I  think, 
a  good  one.  These  joys  which  come  through  prayer  are  some- 
thing like  what  the  joys  of  Heaven  must  be.  As  the  souls  in 
Heaven  see  no  more  than  the  Lord  wills  them  to  see,  and  as 
this  is  in  proportion  to  their  merits,  and  they  realize  how  small 
their  merits  are,  each  of  them  is  content  with  the  place  given  to 
him,  and  yet  there  is  the  very  greatest  difference  in  Heaven 
between  one  kind  of  fruition  and  another — a  difference  much 
more  marked  than  that  between  different  kinds  of  spiritual  joy 
on  earth,  though  this  is  tremendous.  When  a  soul  is  in  its  early 
stages  of  growth  and  God  grants  it  this  favour,  it  really  thinks 
there  is  nothing  more  left  for  it  to  desire  and  counts  itself  well 


X]  LIFE  59 

recompensed  for  all  the  service  it  has  done  Him.  And  it  has 
ample  reason  for  thinking  so:  a  single  one  of  these  tears,  which, 
as  I  say,  we  can  cause  to  flow  almost  by  ourselves  (though 
nothing  whatever  can  be  done  without  God),  cannot,  I  think, 
be  purchased  with  all  the  labours  in  the  world,  so  great  is  the 
gain  which  it  brings  us.  And  what  greater  gain  is  there  than  to 
have  some  evidence  that  we  are  pleasing  God?  Let  anyone, 
then,  who  has  arrived  thus  far  give  great  praise  to  God  and 
recognize  how  much  he  is  in  His  debt.  For  it  now  seems  that 
He  wants  him  to  be  a  member  of  His  household  and  has  chosen 
him  for  His  kingdom,  if  he  does  not  turn  back. 

Let  him  not  trouble  about  certain  kinds  of  humilitya  of  which 
I  propose  to  treat.  We  may  think  it  humility  not  to  realize  that 
the  Lord  is  bestowing  gifts  upon  us.  Let  us  understand  very, 
very  clearly,  how  this  matter  stands.  God  gives  us  these  gifts 
for  no  merit  of  ours.  Let  us  be  grateful  to  His  Majesty  for  them, 
for,  unless  we  recognize  that  we  are  receiving  them,  we  shall 
not  be  aroused  to  love  Him.  And  it  is  a  most  certain  thing 
that,  if  we  remember  all  the  time  that  we  are  poor,  the  richer 
we  find  ourselves,  the  greater  will  be  the  profit  that  comes  to 
us  and  the  more  genuine  our  humility.  Another  mistake  is  for 
the  soul  to  be  afraid,  thinking  itself  incapable  of  receiving  great 
blessings,  with  the  result  that,  when  the  Lord  begins  to  grant 
them,  it  grows  fearful,  thinking  that  it  is  sinning  through  vain- 
glory. Let  us  believe  that,  when  the  devil  begins  to  tempt  us 
about  this,  He  Who  gives  us  the  blessings  will  also  give  us  grace 
to  realize  that  it  is  a  temptation,  and  fortitude  to  resist  it:  I 
know  God  will  do  this  if  we  walk  before  Him  in  simplicity, 
endeavouring  to  please  Him  alone  and  not  men. 

It  is  a  very  evident  truth  that  we  love  a  person  most  when 
we  have  a  vivid  remembrance  of  the  kind  actions  he  has  done 
us.  If,  then,  it  is  lawful,  and  indeed  meritorious,  for  us  to  remem- 
ber that  it  is  from  God  that  we  have  our  being,  and  that  He 
created  us  from  nothing,  and  that  He  preserves  us,  and  also  to 
remember  all  the  other  benefits  of  His  death  and  of  the  trials 
which  He  had  suffered  for  all  of  us  now  living  long  before  any 
of  us  was  created,  why  should  it  not  be  lawful  for  me  to  under- 
stand, realize  and  consider  again  and  again  that,  though,  once 
I  was  wont  to  speak  of  vanities,  the  Lord  has  now  granted  me 
the  desire  to  speak  only  of  Himself.  Here  is  a  jewel  which,  when 
we  remember  that  it  is  given  us,  and  that  indeed  we  already 
possess  it,  invites  and  constrains  us  to  love,  and  all  this  is  the 
blessing  that  comes  from  prayer  founded  on  humility.  What, 
then,  will  it  be  when  we  find  ourselves  in  possession  of  other 
and  more  precious  jewels,  which  some  servants  of  God  have 


6o  LIFE  CHAP. 

already  received,  such  as  contempt  for  the  world  and  even  for 
themselves?  It  is  clear  that  such  persons  must  think  of  them- 
selves as  still  more  in  God's  debt  and  under  still  greater  obliga- 
tions to  serve  Him.  We  must  realize  that  nothing  of  all  this  comes 
from  ourselves  and  acknowledge  the  bounteousness  of  the  Lord, 
Who  on  a  soul  as  poor  and  wretched  and  undeserving  as  mine — 
for  whom  the  first  of  these  jewels  would  have  been  enough, 
and  more  than  enough — was  pleased  to  bestow  greater  riches 
than  I  could  desire.  f 

We  must  seek  new  strength  with  which  to  serve  Him,  and 
endeavour  not  to  be  ungrateful,  for  that  is  the  condition  on 
which  the  Lord  bestows  His  jewels.  Unless  we  make  good  use 
of  His  treasures,  and  of  the  high  estate  to  which  He  brings  us, 
He  will  take  these  treasures  back  from  us,  and  we  shall  be 
poorer  than  before,  and  His  Majesty  will  give  the  jewels  to  some 
other  person  who  can  display  them  to  advantage  and  to  his  own 
profit  and  that  of  others.  For  how  can  a  man  unaware  that  he 
is  rich  make  good  use  of  his  riches  and  spend  them  liberally? 
It  is  impossible,  I  think,  taking  our  nature  into  consideration, 
that  anyojie  who  fails  to  realize  that  he  is  favoured  by  God  should 
have  the  courage  necessary  for  doing  great  things.  For  we  are 
so  miserable  and  so  much  attracted  by  earthly  things  that  only 
one  who  realizes  that  he  holds  some  earnest  of  the  joys  of  the 
next  world  will  succeed  in  thoroughly  abhorring  and  completely 
detaching  himself  from  the  things  of  this ;  for  it  is  through  these 
gifts  that  the  Lord  bestows  upon  us  the  fortitude  of  which  our 
sins  have  deprived  us.  And  a  man  is  unlikely  to  desire  the  dis- 
approval and  abhorrence  of  all,  or  the  other  great  virtues  possessed 
by  the  perfect,  unless  he  have  some  earnest  of  the  love  which  God 
bears  him  and  also  a  living  faith.  For  our  nature  is  so  dead 
that  we  pursue  what  we  see  before  us  and  so  it  is  these  very 
favours  which  awaken  and  strengthen  faith.  But  it  may  well 
be  that  I  am  judging  others  by  my  wicked  self,  and  that  there 
may  be  some  who  need  no  more  than  the  truths  of  the  Faith 
to  enable  them  to  perform  works  of  great  perfection,  whereas  I, 
wretched  woman,  have  need  of  everything. 

Such  as  these  must  speak  for  themselves.  I  am  describing  my 
own  experiences,  as  I  have  been  commanded  to  do;  if  he  to 
whom  I  send  this  does  not  approve  of  it,  he  will  tear  it  up,  and 
he  will  know  what  is  wrong  with  it  better  than  I.  But  I  beseech 
him,  for  the  love  of  the  Lord,  that  what  I  have  thus  far  said 
concerning  my  wicked  life  and  sins  be  published.  I  give  this 
permission,  here  and  now,  both  to  him  and  to  all  my  confessors, 
of  whom  he  who  will  receive  this  is  one.  If  they  like,  they  can 
publish  it  now,  during  my  lifetime,  so  that  I  may  no  longer 


X]  LIFE  61 

deceive  the  world  and  those  who  think  there  is  some  good  in 
me.  I  am  speaking  the  absolute  and  literal  truth  when  I  say 
that,  as  far  as  I  understand  myself  at  present,  this  will  give  me 
great  comfort.  But  I  do  not  make  that  permission  applicable  to  what 
I  shall  say  from  now  onwards ;  if  this  should  be  shown  to  any- 
one, I  do  not  wish  it  to  be  stated  to  whom  it  refers,  whose  ex- 
perience it  recounts  or  who  is  its  author;  and  for  that  reason 
I  do  not  mention  myself  or  anyone  else  by  name.  I  shall  write 
it  all  as  well  as  I  can,  in  order  that  my  authorship  may  not  be 
recognized.  This  I  beg  for  the  love  of  God.  The  authority  of 
persons  so  learned  and  serious  as  my  confessors  suffices  for  the 
approval  of  any  good  thing  that  I  may  say,  if  the  Lord  gives 
me  grace  to  say  it,  in  which  case  it  will  not  be  mine  but  His; 
for  I  have  no  learning,  nor  have  I  led  a  good  life,  nor  do  I  get 
my  information  from  a  learned  man  or  from  any  other  person 
whatsoever.  Only  those  who  have  commanded  me  to  write 
this1  know  that  I  am  doing  so,  and  at  the  moment  they  are  not 
here.  I  am  almost  stealing  the  time  for  writing,  and  that  with 
great  difficulty,  for  it  hinders  me  from  spinning  and  I  am  living 
in  a  poor  house  and  have  numerous  things  to  do.  If  the  Lord 
had  given  me  more  ability,  and  a  better  memory,  I  might  have 
profited  by  what  I  have  heard  or  read,  but  I  have  little  ability 
or  memory  of  my  own.  If,  then,  I  say  any  good  thing,  it  will 
be  because  the  Lord  has  been  pleased,  for  some  good  purpose, 
that  I  should  say  it,  while  whatever  is  bad  is  my  own  work  and 
Your  Reverence  will  delete  it.  In  neither  case  is  there  any 
advantage  in  giving  my  name.  During  my  lifetime,  of  course, 
nothing  good  that  I  may  have  done  ought  to  be  talked  about; 
and  after  my  death  there  will  be  no  point  in  mentioning  me, 
for  to  do  so  would  bring  discredit  on  this  good,  to  which  no  one 
would  give  credence  if  it  were  to  be  related  of  one  so  base  and 
wicked  as  I. 

And  as  I  think  that  Your  Reverence,  and  others  who  are  to 
see  this,  will  do  what,  for  love  of  the  Lord,  I  am  asking  you, 
I  am  writing  quite  freely.  In  any  other  case,  I  should  have 
great  scruples  about  writing  at  all,  except  to  confess  my  sins, 
about  doing  which  I  have  none.  For  the  rest,  the  very  thought 
that  I  am  a  woman  is  enough  to  make  my  wings  droop — how 
much  more,  then,  the  thought  that  I  am  such  a  wicked  one! 
So  Your  Reverence  must  take  the  responsibility  for  everything 
beyond  the  simple  story  of  my  life  (since  you  have  importuned 
me  so  earnestly  to  write  some  account  of  the  favours  which  God 

1  These  persons,  according  to  a  manuscript  note  by  P.  Gracian  to  be  found  in  a  copy 
of  the  first  edition  of  St.  Teresa's  works,  were  "  Master  Fray  Domingo  Bdnea  and  Fray 
Gardade  Toledo". 


62  LIFE  [CHAP. 

grants  me  in  prayer),  if  it  be  in  accordance  with  the  truths  of 
our  holy  Catholic  Faith;  and  if  it  be  not.  Your  Reverence  must 
burn  it  at  once — I  am  quite  willing  for  you  to  do  that.  I  will 
describe  my  experiences,  so  that,  if  what  I  write  is  in  accordance 
with  these  truths,  it  may  be  of  some  use  to  Your  Reverence; 
if  it  be  not,  my  soul  will  be  disillusioned,  and,  if  I  am  not  gaining 
anything  myself,  as  I  trust  I  am,  there  will  at  least  be  no  gain 
for  the  devil.  The  Lord  well  knows  that,  as  I  shall  say  later, 
I  have  always  tried  to  seek  out  those  who  will  enlighten  me. 
Howfever  clearly  I  may  wish  to  describe  these  matters  which 
concern  prayer,  they  will  be  very  obscure  to  anyone  who  has 
no  experience  of  it.  I  shall  describe  certain  hindrances,  which, 
as  I  understand  it,  prevent  people  from  making  progress  on 
this  road,  and  also  certain  other  sources  of  danger  about  which 
the  Lord  has  taught  me  by  experience.  More  recently  I  have 
discussed  these  things  with  men  of  great  learning  and  persons 
who  have  led  spiritual  lives  for  many  years ;  and  they  have  seen 
that  in  the  twenty-seven  years  during  which  I  have  been 
practising  prayer,  His  Majesty  has  given  me  experiences,  ill  as 
I  have  walked  and  often  as  I  have  stumbled  on  this  road,  for 
which  others  need  thirty-seven,  or  even  forty-seven,  in  spite  of 
having  made  steady  progress  and  practised  penitence  and 
attained  virtue.  May  His  Majesty  be  blessed  for  everything, 
and  may  He,  for  His  name's  sake,  make  use  of  me.  For  my 
Lord  well  knows  that  I  have  no  other  desire  than  this,  that  He 
may  be  praised  and  magnified  a  little  when  it  is  seen  that  on  so 
foul  and  malodorous  a  dunghill  He  has  planted  a  garden  of  sweet 
flowers.  May  His  Majesty  grant  that  I  may  not  root  them  up 
through  my  faults  and  become  what  I  was  before.  This  I  beseech 
Your  Reverence,  for  love  of  the  Lord,  to  beg  Him  for  me,  for 
you  know  what  I  am  more  clearly  than  you  have  permitted  me 
to  say  here. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Gives  the  reason  why  we  do  not  learn  to  love  God  perfectly  in  a  short 
time.  Begins,  by  means  of  a  comparison,  to  describe  four  degrees 
of  prayer,  Concerning  the  first  of  which  something  is  here  said. 
This  is  most  profitable  for  beginners  and  for  those  who  are  receiving 
no  consolations  in  prayer. 

I  shall  now  speak  of  those  who  are  beginning  to  be  the  servants 
of  love — for  this,  I  think,  is  what  we  become  when  we  resolve 
to  follow  in  this  way  of  prayer  Him  Who  so  greatly  loved  us. 


XI]  LIFE  63 

So  great  a  dignity  is  this  that  thinking  of  it  alone  brings  me  a 
strange  comfort,  for  servile  fear  vanishes  at  once  if  while  we 
are  at  this  first  stage  we  act  as  we  should.  O  Lord  of  my  soul 
and  my  Good!  Why,  when  a  soul  has  resolved  to  love  Thee 
and  by  forsaking  everything  does  all  in  its  power  towards  that 
end,  so  that  it  may  the  better  employ  itself  in  the  love  of  God, 
hast  Thou  been  pleased  that  it  should  not  at  once  have  the 
joy  of  ascending  to  the  possession  of  this  perfect  love?  But  I 
am  wrong:  I  should  have  made  my  complaint  by  asking  why 
we  ourselves  have  no  desire  so  to  ascend,  for  it  is  we  alone  who 
are  at  fault  in  not  at  once  enjoying  so  great  a  dignity.  If  we 
attain  to  the  perfect  possession  of  this  true  love  of  God,  it  brings 
all  blessings  with  it.  But  so  niggardly  and  so  slow  are  we  in 
giving  ourselves  wholly  to  God  that  we  do  not  prepare  ourselves 
as  we  should  to  receive  that  precious  thing  which  it  is  His 
Majesty's  will  that  we  should  enjoy  only  at  a  great  price. 

I  am  quite  clear  that  there  is  nothing  on  earth  with  which 
so  great  a  blessing  can  be  purchased;  but  if  we  did  what  we 
could  to  obtain  it,  if  we  cherished  no  attachment  to  earthly 
things,  and  if  all  our  cares 'and  all  our  intercourse  were  centred 
in  Heaven,  I  believe  there  is  no  doubt  that  this  blessing  would 
be  given  us  very  speedily,  provided  we  prepared  ourselves 
for  it  thoroughly  and  quickly,  as  did  some  of  the  saints. 
But  we  think  we  are  giving  God  everything,  whereas  what  we 
are  really  offering  Him  is  the  revenue  or  the  fruits  of  our  land 
while  .keeping  the  stock  and  the  right  of  ownership  of  it  in  our 
own  hands.  We  have  made  a  resolve  to  be  poor,  and  that  is  a 
resolution  of  great  merit;  but  we  often  begin  to  plan  and  strive 
again  so  that  we  may  have  no  lack,  not  only  of  necessaries,  but 
even  of  superfluities;  we  try  to  make  friends  who  will  give 
us  these,  lest  we  should  lack  anything;  and  we  take  greater 
pains,  and  perhaps  even  run  greater  risks,  than  we  did  before, 
when  we  had  possessions  of  our  own.  Presumably,  again,  when 
we  became  nuns,  or  previously,  when  we  began  to  lead  spiritual 
lives  and  to  follow  after  perfection,  we  abandoned  all  thought 
of  our  own  importance;1  and  yet  hardly  is  our  self-importance 
wounded2  than  we  quite  forget  that  we  have  surrendered  it  to 
God  and  we  try  to  seize  it  again,  and  wrest  it,  as  they  say,  out 
of  His  very  hands,  although  we  had  apparently  made  Him  Lord 
of  our  will.  And  the  same  thing  happens  with  everything 
else* 

1  \Horvra.  Gf.  p.  I4a  n.  2  above.  This  is  an  example  of  the  use  of  the  word  to  denote 
something  reprehensible  in  nuns:  elsewhere  she  adjures  her  sisters  to  think  (in  another 
sense)  of  their  own  honra,  or  reputation.] 

*[Ltt.:  "hardly  have  they  touched  us  in  a  point  of  honour."  Cf.  the  use  of 
"punto  de  honra"  or  "pundonor"  in  Spanish  drama*] 


64  LIFE  [CHAP. 

A  nice  way  of  seeking  the  love  of  God  is  this !  We  expect 
great  handfuls  of  it,  as  one  might  say,  and  yet  we  want  to  reserve 
our  affections  for  ourselves!  We  make  no  effort  to  carry  our 
desires  into  effect  or  to  raise  them  far  abpve  the  earth.  It  is 
hardly  suitable  that  people  who  act  in  this  way  should  have 
many  spiritual  consolations;  the  two  things  seem  to  me  incom- 
patible. So,  being  unable  to  make  a  full  surrender  of  ourselves, 
we  are  never  given  a  full  supply  of  this  treasure.  May  His  Majesty 
be  pleased  to  give  it  to  us  little  by  little,  even  though  the  receiving 
of  it  may  cost  us  all  the  trials  in  the  world. 

The  Lord  shows  exceeding  great  mercy  to  him  whom  He 
gives  grace  and  courage  to  resolve  to  strive  after  this  blessing 
with  all  his  might.  For  God  denies  Himself  to  no  one  who 
perseveres  but  gradually  increases  the  courage  of  such  a  one  till 
he  achieves  victory.  I  say  "courage"  because  of  the  numerous 
obstacles  which  the  devil  at  first  sets  in  his  path  to  hinder  him 
from  ever  setting  out  upon  it,  for  the  devil  knows  what  harm 
will  come  to  him  thereby  and  that  he  will  lose  nob  only  that  one 
soul  but  many  more.  If  by  the  help  of  God  the  beginner  strives 
to  reach  the  summit  of  perfection,  I  do  not  believe  he  will  ever 
go  to  Heaven  alone  but  will  always  take  many  others  with 
him:  God  treats  him  like  a  good  captain,  and  gives  him  soldiers 
to  go  in  his  company.  So  many  are  the  dangers  and  difficulties 
which  the  devil  sets  before  him  that  if  he  is  not  to  turn  back 
he  needs  not  merely  a  little  courage  but  a  very  great  deal,  and 
much  help  from  God. 

To  say  something,  then,  of  the  early  experiences  of  those  who 
are  determined  to  pursue  this  blessing  and  to  succeed  in  this 
enterprise  (I  shall  continue  later  with  what  I  began  to  say  about 
mystical  theology,  as  I  believe  it  is  called) :  it  is  in  these  early 
stages  that  their  labour  is  hardest,  for  it  is  they  themselves  who 
labour  and  the  Lord  Who  gives  the  increase.  In  the  other  degrees 
of  prayer  the  chief  thing  is  fruition,  although,  whether  at  the 
beginning,  in  the  middle  or  at  the  end  of  the  road,  all  have  their 
crosses,  different  as  these  may  be.  For  those  who  follow  Christ 
must  take  the  way  which  He  took,  unless  they  want  to  be  lost. 
Blessed  are  their  labours,  which  even  here,  in  this  life,  have 
such  abundant  recompense.  I  shall  have  to  employ  some  kind 
of  comparison,  though,  being  a  woman  and  writing  simply 
what  I  am  commanded,  I  should  like  to  avoid  doing  so ;  but  this 
spiritual  language  is  so  hard  to  use  for  such  as,  like  myself,  have 
no  learning,  that  I  shall  have  to  seek  some  such  means  of  con- 
veying my  ideas.  It  may  be  that  my  comparison  will  seldom  do 
this  successfully  and  Your  Reverence  will  be  amused  to  see  how 
stupid  I  am.  But  it  comes  to  my  mind  now  that  I  have  read 


XI]  LIFE  65 

or  heard  of  this  comparison:  as  I  have  a  bad  memory,  I  do  not 
know  where  it  occurred  or  what  it  illustrated,  but  it  satisfies 
me  at  the  moment  as  an  illustration  of  my  own. 

The  beginner  must  think  of  himself  as  of  one  setting  out  to 
make  a  garden  in  which  the  Lord  is  to  take  His  delight,  yet  in 
soil  most  unfruitful  and  full  of  weeds.  His  Majesty  uproots  the 
weeds  and  will  set  good  plants  in  their  stead.  Let  us  suppose 
that  this  is  already  done — that  a  soul  has  resolved  to  practise 
prayer  and  has  already  begun  to  do  so.  We  have  now,  by  God's 
help,  like  good  gardeners,  to  make  these  plants  grow,  and  to 
water  them  carefully,  so  that  they  may  not  perish,  but  may 
produce  flowers  which  shall  send  forth  great  fragrance  to  give 
refreshment  to  this  Lord  of  ours,  so  that  He  may  often  come 
into  the  garden  to  take  His  pleasure  and  have  His  delight  among 
these  virtues. 

Let  us  now  consider  how  this  garden  can  be  watered,  so  that 
we  may  know  what  we  have  to  do,  what  labour  it  will  cost  us, 
if  the  gain  will  outweigh  the  labour  and  for  how  long  this  labour 
must  be  borne.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  garden  can  be  watered 
in  four  ways:  by  taking  the  water  from  a  well,  which  costs  us 
great  labour;  or  by  a  water-wheel  and  buckets,  when  the  water 
is  drawn  by  a  windlass  (I  have  sometimes  drawn  it  in  this  way: 
it  is  less  laborious  than  the  other  and  gives  more  water);  or 
by  a  stream  or  a  brook,  which  waters  the  ground  much  better, 
for  it  saturates  it  more  thoroughly  and  there  is  less  need  to 
water  it  often,  so  that  the  gardener's  labour  is  much  less;  or 
by  heavy  rain,  when  the  Lord  waters  it  with  no  labour  of  ours, 
a  way  incomparably  better  than  any  of  those  which  have  been 
described. 

And  now  I  come  to  my  point,  which  is  the  application  of 
these  four  methods  of  watering  by  which  the  garden  is  to  be 
kept  fertile,  for  if  it  has  no  water  it  will  be  ruined.  It  has  seemed 
possible  to  me  in  this  way  to  explain  something  about  the  four 
degrees  of  prayer  to  which  the  Lord,  of  His  goodness,  has  occasion- 
ally brought  my  soul.  May  He  also  of  His  goodness  grant  me  to 
speak  in  such  a4  way  as  to  be  of  some  profit  to  one  of  the  persons 
who  commanded  me  to  write  this  book,1  whom  in  four  months 
the  Lord  has  brought  to  a  point  far  beyond  that  which  I  have 
reached  in  seventeen  years.  He  prepared  himself  better  than  I, 
and  thus  his  garden,  without  labour  on  his  part,  is  watered  by 
all  these  four  means,  though  he  is  still  receiving  the  last  watering 
only -drop  by  drop;  such  progress  is  his  garden  making  that 
soon,  by  the  Lord's  help,  it  will  be  submerged.  It  will  be  a 

1  "P.  Pedra  Ibanez",  observes  P.  Gracian,  in  another  manuscript  note  to  the  copy 
of  the  first  edition  of  St.  Teresa's  works  referred  to  above  (pp.  7-8). 


66  LIFE  [CHAP. 

pleasure  to  me  for  him  to  laugh  at  my  explanation  if  he  thinks 
it  foolish. 

Beginners  in  prayer,  we  may  say,  are  those  who  draw  up 
the  water  out  of  the  well :  this,  as  I  have  said,  is  a  very  laborious 
proceeding,  for  it  will  fatigue  them  to  keep  their  senses  recollected, 
which  is  a  great  labour  because  they  have  been  accustomed  to 
a  life  of  distraction.  Beginners  must  accustom  themselves  to 
pay  no  heed  to  what  they  see  or  hear,  and  they  must  practise 
doing  this  during  hours  of  prayer;  they  must  be  alone  and  in 
their  solitude  think  over  their  past  life — all  of  us,  indeed,  whether 
beginners  or  proficients,  must  do  this  frequently.  There  are 
differences,  however,  in  the  degree  to  which  it  must  be  done, 
as  I  shall  show  later.  At  first  it  causes  distress,  for  beginners 
are  not  always  sure  that  they  have  repented  of  their  sins  (though 
clearly  they  have,  since  they  have  so  sincerely  resolved  to  serve 
God).  Then  they  have  to  endeavour  to  meditate  upon  the  life 
of  Christ  and  this  fatigues  their  minds.  Thus  far  we  can  make 
progress  by  ourselves — of  course  with  the  help  of  God,  for  without 
that,  as  is  well  known,  we  cannot  think  a  single  good  thought. 
This  is  what  is  meant  by  beginning  to  draw  up  water  from  the 
well — and  God  grant  there  may  be  water  in  it!  But  that,  at 
least,  does  not  depend  on  us:  our  task  is  to  draw  it  up  and  to 
do  what  we  can  to  water  the  flowers.  And  God  is  so  good  that 
when,  for  reasons  known  to  His  Majesty,  perhaps  to  our  great 
advantage,  He  is  pleased  that  the  well  should  be  dry,  we,  like 
good  gardeners,  do  all  that  in  us  lies,  and  He  keeps  the  flowers 
alive  without  water  and  makes  the  virtues  grow.  By  water  here 
I  mean  tears — or,  if  there  be  none  of  these,  tenderness  and  an 
interior  feeling  of  devotion. 

What,  then,  will  he  do  here  who  finds  that  for  many  days 
he  experiences  nothing  but  aridity,  dislike,  distaste  and  so  little 
desire  to  go  and  draw  water  that  he  would  give  it  up  entirely  if 
he  did  not  remember  that  he  is  pleasing  and  serving  the  Lord 
of  the  garden;  if  he  were  not  anxious  that  all  his  service  should 
not  be  lost,  to  say  nothing  of  the  gain  which  he  hopes  for  from 
the  great  labour  of  lowering  the  bucket  so  often  into  the  well  and 
drawing  it  up  without  water?  It  will  often  happen  that,  even  for 
that  purpose,  he  is  unable  to  move  his  arms — unable,  that  is,  to 
think  a  single  good  thought,  for  working  with  the  understanding  is 
of  course  the  same  as  drawing  water  out  of  the  well.  What,  then, 
as  I  say,  will  the  gardener  do  here?  He  will  be  glad  and  take 
heart  and  consider  it  the  greatest  of  favours  to  work  in  the  garden 
of  soxgreat  an  Emperor;  and,  as  he  knows  that  he  is  pleasing  Him 
by  so  working  (and  his  purpose  must  be  to  please,  not  himself, 
but  Him),  let  him  render  Him  great  praise  for  having  placed  such 


XI]  LIFE  67 

confidence  in  him,  when  He  has  seen  that,  without  receiving  any 
recompense,  he  is  taking  such  great  care  of  that  which  He  had 
entrusted  to  him;  let  him  help  Him  to  bear  the  Cross  and  consider 
how  He  lived  with  it  all  His  life  long;  let  him  not  wish  to  have  his 
kingdom  on  earth  or  ever  cease  from  prayer;  and  so  let  him 
resolve,  even  if  this  aridity  should  persist  his  whole  life  long, 
never  to  let  Christ  fall  beneath  the  Cross.  The  time  will  come 
when  he  shall  receive  his  whole  reward  at  once.  Let  him  have 
no  fear  that  his  labour  will  be  lost.  He  is  serving  a  good  Master, 
Whose  eyes  are  upon  him.  Let  him  pay  no  heed  to  evil  thoughts, 
remembering  how  the  devil  put  such  thoughts  into  the  mind  of 
Saint  Jerome  in  the  desert.1 

These  trials  bring  their  own  reward.  I  endured  them  for  many 
years ;  and,  when  I  was  able  to  draw  but  one  drop  of  water  from 
this  blessed  well,  I  used  to  think  that  God  was  granting  me  a 
favour.  I  know  how  grievous  such  trials  are  and  I  think  they  need 
more  courage  than  do  many  others  in  the  world.  But  it  has 
become  clear  to  me  that,  even  in  this  life,  God  does  not  fail  to 
recompense  them  highly;  for  it  is  quite  certain  that  a  single  one 
of  those  hours  in  which  the  Lord  has  granted  me  to  taste  of 
Himself  has  seemed  to  me  later  a  recompense  for  all  the  afflic- 
tions which  I  endured  over  a  long  period  while  keeping  up  the 
practice  of  prayer.  I  believe  myself  that  often  in  the  early 
stages,  and  again  later,  it  is  the  Lord's  will  to  give  us  these 
tortures,  and  many  other  temptations  which  present  themselves, 
in  order  to  test  His  lovers  and  discover  if  they  can  drink  of  the 
chalice  and  help  Him  to  bear  the  Cross  before  He  trusts  them 
with  His  great  treasures.  I  believe  it  is  for  our  good  that  His 
Majesty  is  pleased  to  lead  us  in  this  way  so  that  we  may  have  a 
clear  understanding  of  our  worthlessness;  for  the  favours  which 
come  later  are  of  such  great  dignity  that  before  He  grants  us 
them  He  wishes  us  to  know  by  experience  how  miserable  we 
are,  lest  what  happened  to  Lucifer  happen  to  us  also. 

What  is  there  that  Thou  doest,  my  Lord,  which  is  not  for  the 
greater  good  of  the  soul  that  Thou  knowest  to  be  already  Thine 
and  that  places  itself  in  Thy  power,  to  follow  Thee  whithersoever 
Thou  gocst,  even  to  the  death  of  the  Cross,  and  is  determined 
to  help  Thee  bear  that  Cross  and  not  to  leave  Thee  alone  with 
it?  If  anyone  finds  himself  thus  determined,  there  is  nothing 
for  him  to  fear.  No,  spiritual  people,  there  is  no  reason  to  be 
distressed.  Once  you  have  reached  so  high  a  state  as  this,  in 
which  you  desire  to  be  alone  and  to  commune  with  God,  and 

1  The  reference  is  to  the  twenty-second  epistle  of  St.  Jerome  "Ad  Eustochium'% 
•which  describes  how  vividly  there  would  come  to  him  in  the  desert  pictures  of  the 
pomps  and  vanities  of  pagan  Rome. 


68  LIFE  [CHAP. 

abandon  the  pastimes  of  the  world,  the  chief  part  of  your  work 
is  done.  Praise  His  Majesty  for  this  and  trust  in  His  goodness, 
which  never  yet  failed  His  friends.  Close  the  eyes  of  your  thought 
and  do  not  wonder:  "Why  is  He  giving  devotion  to  that  person 
of  so  few  days'  experience,  and  none  to  me  after  so  many  years?  " 
Let  us  believe  that  it  is  all  for  our  greater  good;  let  His  Majesty 
guide  us  whithersoever  He  wills;  we  are  not  our  own,  but  His. 
It  is  an  exceeding  great  favour  that  He  shows  us  when  it  is  His 
pleasure  that  we  should  wish  to  dig  in  His  garden,  and  we  are 
then  near  the  Lord  of  the  garden.  Who  is  certainly  with  us. 
If  it  be  His  will  that  these  plants  and  flowers  should  grow,  some 
by  means  of  the  water  drawn  from  this  well  and  others  without 
it,  what  matter  is  that  to  me?  Do  Thou,  O  Lord,  what  Thou 
wilt;  let  me  not  offend  Thee  and  let  not  my  virtues  perish,  if, 
of  Thy  goodness  alone,  Thou  hast  given  me  any.  I  desire  to 
suffer,  Lord,  because  Thou  didst  suifer.  Let  Thy  will  be  in 
every  way  fulfilled  in  me,  and  may  it  never  please  Thy  Majesty 
that  a  gift  so  precious  as  Thy  love  be  given  to  people  who  serve 
Thee  solely  to  obtain  consolations. 

It  must  be  carefully  noted — and  I  say  this  because  I  know  it 
by  experience — that  the  soul  which  begins  to  walk  resolutely 
in  this  way  of  mental  prayer  and  can  persuade  itself  to  set  little 
store  by  consolations  and  tenderness  in  devotion,  and  neither  to 
be  elated  when  the  Lord  gives  them  nor  disconsolate  when  He 
withholds  them,  has  already  travelled  a  great  part  of  its  journey. 
However  often  it  may  stumble,  it  need  not  fear  a  relapse,  for 
its  building  has  been  begun  on  a  firm  foundation.1  Yes,  love 
for  God  does  not  consist  in  shedding  tears,  in  enjoying  those 
consolations  and  that  tenderness  which  for  the  most  part  we 
desire  and  in  which  we  find  comfort,  but  in  serving  Him  with 
righteousness,  fortitude  of  soul  and  humility.  The  other  seems 
to  me  to  be  receiving  rather  than  giving  anything. 

As  for  poor  women  like  myself,  who  are  weak  and  lack  fortitude, 
I  think  it  fitting  that  we  should  be  led  by  means  of  favours :  this 
is  the  way  in  which  God  is  leading  me  now,  so  that  I  may  be  able 
to  suffer  certain  trials  which  it  has  pleased  His  Majesty  to  give 
me.  But  when  I  hear  servants  of  God,  men  of  weight,  learning 
and  intelligence,  making  such  a  fuss  because  God  is  not  giving 
them  devotion,  it  revolts  me  to  listen  to  them.  I  do  not  mean 
that,  when  God  gives  them  such  a  thing,  they  ought  not  to  accept 
it  and  set  a  great  deal  of  store  by  it,  because  in  that  case  His 
Majesty  must  know  that  it  is  good  for  them.  But  I  do  mean  that 
if  they  do  not  receive  it  they  should  not  be  distressed :  they  should 
realize  that,  as  His  Majesty  does  not  give  it  them,  it  is  unnecessary; 

1  [The  metaphors  here  follow  the  Spanish  exactly.] 


XI]  LIFE  69 

they  should  be  masters  of  themselves  and  go  on  their  way.  Let 
them  believe  that  they  are  making  a  mistake  about  this :  I  have 
proved  it  and  seen  that  it  is  so.  Let  them  believe  that  it  is  an 
imperfection  in  them  if,  instead  of  going  on  their  way  with 
freedom  of  spirit,  they  hang  back  through  weakness  and  lack  of 
enterprise. 

I  am  not  saying  this  so  much  for  beginners  (though  I  lay  some 
stress  upon  it,  even  for  these,  because  it  is  of  great  importance 
that  they  should  start  with  this  freedom  and  determination): 
I  mean  it  rather  for  others.  There  must  be  many  who  have  begun 
some  time  back  and  never  manage  to  finish  their  course,  and  I 
believe  it  is  largely  because  they  do  not  embrace  the  Cross  from 
the  beginning  that  they  are  distressed  and  think  that  they  are 
making  no  progress.  When  the  understanding  ceases  to  work, 
they  cannot  bear  it,  though  perhaps  even  then  the  will  is  increasing 
in  power,  and  putting  on  new  strength,1  without  their  knowing 
it.  We  must  realize  that  the  Lord  pays  no  heed  to  these  things : 
to  us  they  may  look  like  faults,  but  they  are  not  so.  His  Majesty 
knows  our  wretchedness  and  the  weakness  of  our  nature  better 
than  we  ourselves  and  He  knows  that  all  the  time  these  souls  are 
longing  to  think  of  Him  and  to  love  Him.  It  is  this  determination 
that  He  desires  in  us.  The  other  afflictions  which  we  bring 
upon  ourselves  serve  only  to  disturb  our  souls,  and  the  result  of 
them  is  that,  if  we  find  ourselves  unable  to  get  profit  out  of  a 
single  hour,  we  are  impeded  from  doing  so  for  four.  I  have  a 
great  deal  of  experience  of  this  and  I  know  that  what  I  say  is  true, 
for  I  have  observed  it  carefully  and  have  discussed  it  afterwards 
with  spiritual  persons.  The  thing  frequently  arises  from  physical 
indisposition,  for  we  are  such  miserable  creatures  that  this  poor 
imprisoned  soul  shares  in  the  miseries  of  the  body,  and  variations 
of  season  and  changes  in  the  humours  often  prevent  it  from 
accomplishing  its  desires  and  make  it  suffer  in  all  kinds  of  ways 
against  its  will.  The  more  we  try  to  force  it  at  times  like  these, 
the  worse  it  gets  and  the  longer  the  trouble  lasts-  But  let  dis- 
cretion be  observed  so  that  it  may  be  ascertained  if  this  is  the  true 
reason :  the  poor  soul  must  not  be  stifled.  Persons  in  this  condition 
must  realize  that  they  are  ill  and  make  some  alteration  in  their 
hours  of  prayer;  very  often  it  will  be  advisable  to  continue  this 
change  for  some  days. 

They  must  endure  this  exile  as  well  as  they  can,  for  a  soul  which 
loves  God  has  often  the  exceeding  ill  fortune  to  realize  that, 
living  as  it  is  in  this  state  of  misery,  it  cannot  do  what  it  desires 
because  of  its  evil  guest,  the  body.  I  s?dd  we  must  observe  dis- 

1  [Lit. :  "is  growing  fat  and  taking  strength."  Fatness  is  often  spoken  of  in  Spain  as 
synonymous  with  robustness  and  made  a  subject  of  congratulation.] 


70  LIFE  [CHAP. 

cretion,  because  sometimes  the  same  effects  will  be  produced  by 
the  devil;  and  so  it  is  well  that  prayer  should  not  always  be  given 
up  when  the  mind  is  greatly  distracted  and  disturbed,  nor  the 
soul  tormented  by  being  made  to  do  what  is  not  in  its  power. 
There  are  other  things  which  can  be  done — exterior  acts,  such 
as  reading  or  works  of  charity — though  sometimes  the  soul  will 
be  unable  to  do  even  these.  At  such  times  the  soul  must  render 
the  body  a  service  for  the  love  of  God,  so  that  on  many  other 
occasions  the  body  may  render  services  to  the  soul.  Engage  in 
some  spiritual  recreation,  such  as  conversation  (so  long  as  it  is 
really  spiritual),  or  a  country  walk,  according  as  your  confessor 
advises.  In  all  these  things  it  is  important  to  have  had  experience, 
for  from  this  we  learn  what  is  fitting  for  us ;  but  let  God  be  served 
in  all  things.  Sweet  is  His  yoke,  and  it  is  essential  that  we  should 
not  drag  the  soul  along  with  us,  so  to  say,  but  lead  it  gently,  so 
that  it  may  make  the  greater  progress. 

I  repeat  my  advice,  then  (and  it  matters  not  how  often  I  say 
this,  for  it  is  of  great  importance),  that  one  must  never  be  depressed 
or  afflicted  because  of  aridities  or  unrest  or  distraction  of  the  mind. 
If  a  person  would  gain  spiritual  freedom  and  not  be  continually 
troubled,  let  him  begin  by  not  being  afraid  of  the  Cross  and  he 
will  find  that  the  Lord  will  help  him  to  bear  it;  he  will  then  advance 
happily  and  find  profit  in  everything.  It  is  now  clear  that,  if  no 
water  is  coming  from  the  well,  we  ourselves  can  put  nont  into  it. 
But  of  course  we  must  not  be  careless :  water  must  always  be 
drawn  when  there  is  any  there,  for  at  such  a  time  God's  will  is 
that  we  should  use  it  so  that  He  may  multiply  our  virtues. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Continues  to  describe  this  first  state.  Tells  how  far,  with  the  help  of  God, 
we  can  advance  by  ourselves  and  describes  the  harm  that  ensues  when 
the  spirit  attempts  to  aspire  to  unusual  and  supernatural  experiences 
before  they  are  bestowed  upon  it  by  the  Lord. 

Although  in  the  last  chapter  I  digressed  a  good  deal  about 
other  things,  because  they  seemed  to  me  very  necessary,  what  I 
was  trying  to  make  clear  was  how  much  we  can  attain  by  our 
own  power  and  how  in  this  first  stage  of  devotion  we  can  do  a 
certain  amount  for  ourselves.  For,  if  we  examine  and  meditate 
upon  the  Lord's  sufferings  for  us,  we  are  moved  to  compassion, 
and  this  grief  and  the  tears  which  proceed  from  it  are  very  sweet. 
And  then  if  we  think  about  the  glory  we  hope  for,  and  the  love 


XII]  LIFE  ^l 

which  the  Lord  bore  us,  and  His  resurrection,  we  are  moved  to  a 
rejoicing  which  is  neither  wholly  spiritual  nor  wholly  sensual, 
but  is  a  virtuous  joy;  the  grief  also  is  of  great  merit.  Of  this  nature 
are  all  the  things  which  cause  a  devotion  acquired  in  part  by  the 
understanding,  though  this  can  be  neither  merited  nor  attained 
unless  it  be  given  by  God,  It  is  best  for  a  soul  which  has  been 
raised  no  higher  than  this  not  to  try  to  rise  by  its  own  efforts.  Let 
this  be  noted  carefully,  for  if  the  soul  does  try  so  to  rise  it  will 
make  no  progress  but  only  go  backward. 

In  this  state  it  can  make  many  acts  of  resolution  to  do  great 
things  for  God  and  it  can  awaken  its  own  love.  It  can  make 
other  acts  which  will  help  the  virtues  to  grow,  as  is  explained 
in  a  book  called  The  Art  of  serving  God,*  which  is  very  good  and 
suitable  for  persons  in  this  state,  because  in  it  the  understanding  is 
active.  The  soul  can  picture  itself  in  the  presence  of  Christ, 
and  accustom  itself  to  become  enkindled  with  great  love  for  His 
sacred  Humanity  and  to  have  Him  ever  with  it  and  speak  with 
Him,  ask  Him  for  the  things  it  has  need  of,  make  complaints 
to  Him  of  its  trials,  rejoice  with  Him  in  its  joys  and  yet  never 
allow  its  joys  to  make  it  forgetful  of  Him.  It  has  no  need  to  think 
out  set  prayers  but  can  use  just  such  words  as  suit  its  desires  and 
needs.  This  is  an  excellent  way  of  making  progress,  and  of 
making  it  very  quickly;  and  if  anyone  strives  always  to  have  this 
precious  companionship,  makes  good  use  of  it  and  realty  learns  to 
love  this  Lord  to  Whom  we  owe  so  much,  such  a  one,  I  think,  has 
achieved  a  definite  gain. 

For  this  reason,  as  I  have  said,  we  must  not  be  troubled  if  we 
have  no  conscious  devotion,  but  thank  the  Lord  Who  allows  us  to 
harbour  a  desire  to  please  Him,  although  our  deeds  may  be  of 
little  worth.  This  method  of  bringing  Christ  into  our  lives  is  helpful 
at  all  stages ;  it  is  a  most  certain  means  of  making  progress  in  the 
earliest  stage,  of  quickly  reaching  the  second  degree  of  prayer, 
and,  in  the  final  stages,  of  keeping  ourselves  safe  from  the  dangers 
into  which  the  devil  may  lead  us. 

This,  then,  is  what  we  can  do.  If  anyone  tries  to  pass  beyond 
this  stage  and  lift  up  his  spirit  so  as  to  experience  consolations 
which  are  not  being  given  to  him,  I  think  he  is  losing  both  in 
the  one  respect  and  in  the  other.  For  these  consolations  are 
supernatural  and,  when  the  understanding  ceases  to  act,  the  soul 
remains  barren  and  suffers  great  aridity.  And,  as  the  foundation 
of  the  entire  edifice  is  humility,  the  nearer  we  come  to  God,  the 
greater  must  be  the  progress  which  we  make  in  this  virtue: 
otherwise,  we  lose  everything.  It  seems  to  be- a  kind  of  pride  that 

1By  the  Franciscan  P.  Alonso  de  Madrid:  first  published  at  Seville  in  1531  anci 
reprinted  many  times  in  the  sixteenth  century. 


72  LIFE  [CHAP, 

makes  us  wish  to  rise  higher,  for  God  is  already  doing  more  for  us 
than  we  deserve  by  bringing  us  near  to  Him.  It  must  not  be 
supposed  that  I  am  referring  here  to  the  lifting  up  of  the  mind  to 
a  consideration  of  the  high  things  of  Heaven  or  of  God,  and  of  the 
wonders  which  are  in  Heaven,  and  of  God's  great  wisdom.  I 
never  did  this  myself,  for,  as  I  have  said,  I  had  no  ability  for  it, 
and  I  knew  myself  to  be  so  wicked  that  even  when  it  came  to 
thinking  of  earthly  things  God  granted  me  grace  to  understand 
this  truth,  that  it  was  no  small  presumption  in  me  to  do  so — how 
much  more  as  to  heavenly  things!  Other  persons  will  profit  in 
this  way,  especially  if  they  are  learned,  for  learning,  I  think,  is  a 
priceless  help  in  this  exercise,  if  humility  goes  with  it.  Only  a 
few  days  ago  I  observed  that  this  was  so  in  certain  learned  men, 
who  began  but  a  short  while  since  and  have  made  very  great 
,  progress ;  and  this  gives  me  great  longings  that  many  more  learned 
men  should  become  spiritual,  as  I  shall  say  later. 

When  I  say  that  people  should  not  try  to  rise  unless  they  are 
raised  by  God  I  am  using  the  language  of  spirituality;  anyone 
who  has  had  any  experience  will  understand  me  and  if  what  I 
have  already  said  cannot  be  understood  I  do  not  know  how  to 
explain  it.  In  the  mystical  theology  which  I  began  to  describe, 
the  understanding  loses  its  power  of  working,  because  God  sus- 
pends it,  as  I  shall  explain  further  by  and  by  if  God  grants  me 
His  help  for  that  purpose.  What  I  say  we  must  not  do  is  to  pre- 
sume or  think  that  we  can  suspend  it  ourselves ;  nor  must  we  allow 
it  to  cease  working:  if  we  do,  we  shall  remain  stupid  and  cold 
and  shall  achieve  nothing  whatsoever.  When  the  Lord  suspends 
the  understanding  and  makes  it  cease  from  its  activity,  He  gives  it 
something  which  both  amazes  it  and  keeps  it  busy,  so  that, 
without  reasoning  in  any  way,  it  can  understand  more  in  a  short 
space  of  time  than  we,  with  all  our  human  efforts,  in  many  years. 
To  keep  the  faculties  of  the  soul  busy  and  to  think  that,  at  the 
same  time,  you  can  keep  them  quiet,  is  foolishness.  And  I  say 
once  more  that,  although  the  fact  is  not  generally  realized,  there 
is  no  great  humility  in  this :  it  may  not  be  sinful,  but  it  certainly 
causes  distress,  for  it  is  lost  labour,  and  the  soul  feels  slightly 
frustrated,  like  a  man  who  is  just  about  to  take  a  leap  and  then  is 
pulled  back,  so  that  he  seems  to  have  put  forth  his  strength  and 
yet  finds  that  he  has  not  accomplished  what  he  had  expected  to. 
Anyone  who  will  consider  the  matter  will  detect,  in  the  slightness 
of  the  gain  achieved  by  the  soul,  this  very  slight  lack  of  humility  of 
which  I  have  spoken.  For  that  virtue  has  this  excellent  trait — 
that  when  an  action  is  accompanied  by  it  the  soul  is  never  left 
with  any  feeling  of  irritation.  I  think  I  have  made  this  clear, 
though  it  may  possibly  be  so  only  to  me.  May  the  Lord  open  the 


XII]  LIFE  73 

eyes  of  those  who  read  this  by  granting  them  experience  of  it,  and, 
however  slight  that  experience  may  be,  they  will  at  once  under- 
stand it. 

I  spent  a  good  many  years  doing  a  great  deal  of  reading  and 
understanding  nothing  of  what  I  read;  for  a  long  time,  though 
God  was  teaching  me,  I  could  not  utter  a  word  to  explain  His 
teaching  to  others,  and  this  was  no  light  trial  to  me.  When  His 
Majesty  so  wills  He  can  teach  everything  in  a  moment,  in  a  way 
that  amazes  me.  I  can  truthfully  say  this :  though  I  used  to  talk 
with  many  spiritual  persons,  who  would  try  to  explain  what  the 
Lord  was  teaching  me  so  that  I  might  be  able  to  speak  about  it, 
I  was  so  stupid  that  I  could  not  get  the  slightest  profit  from  their 
instruction.  Possibly,  as  His  Majesty  has  always  been  my  teacher 
— may  He  be  blessed  for  everything,  for  I  am  thoroughly  ashamed 
at  being  able  to  say  that  this  is  the  truth — ,  it  may  have  been  His 
will  that  I  should  be  indebted  to  no  one  else  for  my  knowledge. 
In  any  case,  without  my  wishing  it  or  asking  for  it  (for  I  have 
never  been  curious  about  such  things,  as  it  would  have  been  a 
virtue  in  me  to  be,  but  only  about  vanities),  God  suddenly  gave 
me  a  completely  clear  understanding  of  the  whole  thing,  so  that 
I  was  able  to  speak  about  it  in  such  a  way  that  people  were 
astounded.  And  I  myself  was  more  astounded  even  than  my  own 
confessors,  for  I  was  more  conscious  than  they  of  my  own  stupidity. 
This  happened  only  a  short  time  ago.  So  I  do  not  now  attempt  to 
learn  what  the  Lord  has  not  taught  me,  unless  it  be  something 
affecting  my  conscience. 

Once  more  I  repeat  my  advice  that  it  is  very  important  that  we 
should  not  try  to  lift  up  our  spirits  unless  they  are  lifted  up  by  the 
Lord :  in  the  latter  case  we  shall  become  aware  of  the  fact  in- 
stantly. It  is  specially  harmful  for  women  to  make  such  attempts, 
because  the  devil  can  foster  illusions  in  them,  although  I  am 
convinced  that  the  Lord  never  allows  anyone  to  be  harmed  who 
strives  to  approach  Him  with  humility:  rather  will  he  derive  more 
profit  and  gain  from  the  very  experience  through  which  the  devil 
thought  to  send  him  to  perdition.  As  this  road  is  that  most 
generally  taken  by  beginners,  and  the  counsels  that  I  have  given 
are  of  great  importance,  I  have  said  a  good  deal  about  it.  I 
confess  that  others  have  written  about  it  much  better  elsewhere, 
and  I  have  felt  great  confusion  and  shame  in  writing  of  it,  though 
less  than  I  should.  May  the  Lord  be  blessed  for  it  all,  Whose  will 
and  pleasure  it  is  that  one  such  as  I  should  speak  of  things  that  are 
His — things  of  such  a  nature  as  these  and  so  sublime! 


74  LIFE  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Continues  to  describe  this  first  state  and  gives  counsels  for  dealing  with 
certain  temptations  which  the  devil  is  sometimes  wont  to  prepare. 
This  chapter  is  very  profitable. 

It  has  seemed  to  me  appropriate  to  speak  of  certain  tempta- 
tions which,  as  I  have  observed,  often  attack  beginners — I  have 
had  some  of  them  myself — and  to  give  counsels  about  matters 
which  appear  to  me  necessary.  In  the  early  stages,  then,  one 
should  strive  to  feel  happy  and  free.  There  are  some  people 
who  think  that  devotion  will  slip  away  from  them  if  they  relax 
a  little.  It  is  well  to  have  misgivings  about  oneself  and  not  to 
allow  self-confidence  to  lead  one  into  occasions  which  habitually 
involve  offences  against  God.  This  is  most  necessary  until  one 
becomes  quite  perfect  in  virtue;  and  there  are  not  many  who  are 
so  perfect  as  to  be  able  to  relax  when  occasions  present  themselves 
which  tempt  their  own  peculiar  disposition.  It  is  well  that, 
all  our  lives  long,  we  should  recognize  the  worthlessness  of  our 
nature,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  humility.  Yet  there  are  many 
circumstances  in  which,  as  I  have  said,  it  is  permissible  for  us 
to  take  some  recreation,  in  order  that  we  may  be  the  stronger 
when  we  return  to  prayer.  In  everything  we  need  discretion. 

We  must  have  great  confidence,  for  it  is  most  important 
that  we  should  not  cramp  our  good  desires,  but  should  believe 
that,  with  God's  help,  if  we  make  continual  efforts  to  do  so,  we 
shall  attain,  though  perhaps  not  at  once,  to  that  which  many 
saints  have  reached  through  His  favour.  If  they  had  never 
resolved  to  desire  to  attain  this  and  to  carry  their  desires  con- 
tinually into  effect,  they  would  never  have  risen  to  as  high  a 
state  as  they  did.  His  Majesty  desires  and  loves  courageous 
souls  if  they  have  no  confidence  in  themselves  but  walk  in 
humility;  and  I  have  never  seen  any  such  person  hanging  back 
on  this  road,  nor  any  soul  that,  under  the  guise  of  humility, 
acted  like  a  coward,  go  as  far  in  many  years  as  the  courageous 
soul  can  in  few.  I  am  astounded  at  how  much  can  be  done  on 
this  road  if  one  has  the  courage  to  attempt  great  things;  the  soul 
may  not  have  the  strength  to  achieve  these  things  at  once  but 
if  it  takes  a  flight  it  can  make  good  progress,  though,  like  a  little 
unfledged  bird,  it  is  apt  to  grow  tired  and  stop. 

At  one  time  I  used  often  to  bear  in  mind  the  words  of  Saint 
Paul,  that  everything  is  possible  in  God:1  I  realized  quite  well 

1  [Presumably  a  reference  to  Philippians  £v,  13,  unless  the  author  is  attributing  Our 
Lord's  words  in  St.  Matthew  xix,  26  to  St  Paul.] 


XIII]  LIFE  75 

that  in  myself  I  could  do  nothing.  This  was  a  great  help  to  me, 
as  were  also  the  words  of  Saint  Augustine:  "Give  me,  Lord,  what 
Thou  commandest  me  and  command  what  Thou  wilt."1  I  used 
often  to  reflect  that  Saint  Peter  had  lost  nothing  by  throwing 
himself  into  the  sea,  though  after  he  had  done  so  he  was  afraid.2 
These  first  resolutions  are  of  great  importance,  although  during 
this  first  stage  we  have  to  go  slowly  and  to  be  guided  by  the 
discretion  and  opinion  of  our  director;  but  we  must  see  to  it 
that  he  is  not  the  kind  of  person  to  teach  us  to  be  like  toads, 
satisfied  if  our  souls  show  themselves  fit  only  to  catch  lizards. 
We  must  always  keep  humility  before  us,  so  that  we  may  realize 
that  this  strength  cannot  proceed  from  any  strength  of  our  own. 

But  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  realize  what  kind  of  humility 
this  must  be,  for  I  believe  the  devil  does  a  great  deal  of  harm  to 
those  who  practise  prayer  by  encouraging  misunderstandings 
about  humility  in  them  so  as  to  prevent  them  from  making  much 
progress.  He  persuades  us  that  it  is  pride  which  makes  us  have 
ambitious  desires  and  want  to  imitate  the  saints  and  wish  to  be 
martyrs.  Then  he  tells  us,  or  induces  us  to  believe,  that  we  who 
are  sinners  may  admire  the  deeds  of  the  saints  but  must  not 
copy  them.  I  myself  would  agree  with  him  to  the  extent  that  we 
must  consider  which  of  their  deeds  we  are  to  admire  and  which 
to  imitate.  Fpr  it  would  not  be  a  good  thing  for  a  person  who  was 
weak  and  ill  to  indulge  in  a  great  deal  of  fasting  and  in  severe 
penances,  or  to  go  to  a  desert  where  he  could  not  sleep  or  get 
anything  to  eat,  or  to  attempt  other  things  of  that  kind.  But  we 
must  reflect  that,  with  the  help  of  God,  we  can  strive  to  have  a 
great  contempt  for  the  world,  no  regard  for  honour,  and  no 
attachment  to  possessions.  For  so  ungenerous  are  we  that  we 
imagine  the  earth  will  go  from  under  our  feet  if  we  try  to  forget 
the  body  a  little  and  to  cultivate  the  spirit.  Or,  again,  we  think 
that  to  have  an  abundance  of  all  we  need  is  a  help  to  recollection 
because  anxieties  disturb  prayer, 

It  distresses  me  to  reflect  that  we  have  so  little  confidence  in 
God,  and  so  much  love  for  ourselves,  that  anxieties  like  this 
upset  us.  When  we  have  made  so  little  spiritual  progress,  the 
smallest  things  will  trouble  us  as  much  as  important  and  weighty 
things  will  trouble  others,  and  yet  in  our  own  minds  we  presume 
to  think  ourselves  spiritual.  Now  to  me  it  seems  that  this  kind  of 
life  is  an  attempt  to  reconcile  body  and  soul,  so  that  we  may  lose 
neither  comfort  in  this  world  nor  fruition  of  God  iix  the  world 
to  come.  We  shall  get  along  all  right  if  we  walk  in  righteousness 
and  hold  fast  to  virtue,  but  it  will  mean  advancing  at  the  pace 

1  "Da  quod  jubes  et  jube  quod  vis"  (Confessions,  Bk.  X,  Chap,  XXIX). 

2  St.  Matthew  xiv,  29. 


76  LIFE  [CHAP. 

of  a  hen  and  will  never  lead  us  to  spiritual  freedom.  This  is  a 
procedure  which  seems  to  me  quite  good  for  people  who  are  in 
the  married  state  and  have  to  live  in  accordance  with  their  voca- 
tion; but  in  any  other  state  I  should  not  at  all  like  to  see  such  a 
method  of  progress  nor  will  anyone  persuade  me  to  think  it  a 
good  one.  For  I  have  tried  it;  and  I  should  have  been  practising 
it  still  if  the  Lord  in  His  goodness  had  not  shown  me  another 
and  a  shorter  road. 

With  regard  to  this  matter  of  desires,  my  own  were  always 
ambitious,  but  I  strove,  as  I  have  said,  to  practise  prayer  and  yet 
to  live  according  to  my  own  pleasure.  If  there  had  been  anyone 
to  encourage  me  to  soar  higher,  I  think  he  might  have  brought 
me  to  a  state  in  which  these  desires  were  carried  into  effect; 
but,  for  our  sins,  those  who  are  not  over-cautious  in  this  respect 
are  very  few  and  far  between,  and  that,  I  think,  is  sufficient 
reason  why  those  who  begin  do  not  more  quickly  attain  to  great 
perfection.  For  the  Lord  never  fails  us  and  the  fault  is  not  His : 
it  is  we  who  are  faulty  and  miserable. 

We  may  also  imitate  the  saints  by  striving  after  solitude  and 
silence  and  many  other  virtues;  such  things  will  not  kill  these 
wretched  bodies  of  ours,  which- want  to  have  everything  organized 
for  their  benefit  in  such  a  way  as  to  disorganize  the  soul  and  which 
the  devil  does  his  best  to  incapacitate  when  he  sees  that  we  are 
getting  fearful  about  them.  That  is  quite  enough  for  him:  he 
tries  at  once  to  persuade  us  that  all  these  habits  of  devotion  will 
kill  us,  or  ruin  our  health;  he  even  makes  us  afraid  that  if  we  weep 
we  shall  go  blind.  I  have  experienced  this,  so  I  know  it — and  I 
also  know  that  we  can  desire  no  better  kind  of  sight  or  health 
than  to  lose  both  in  so  good  a  cause.  As  my  own  health  is  so  bad, 
I  was  always  impeded  by  my  fears,  and  my  devotion  was  of  no 
value  at  all  until  I  resolved  not  to  worry  any  more  about  my  body 
or  my  health;  and  now  I  trouble  about  them  very  little.  For  it 
pleased  God  to  reveal  to  me  this  device  of  the  devil;  and  so, 
whenever  the  devil  suggested  that  I  should  ruin  my  health, 
I  would  reply:  "Even  if  I  die  it  is  of  little  consequence."  "Rest, 
indeed!"  I  would  say.  "I  need  no  rest;  what  I  need  is  crosses." 
And  so  with  other  things.  I  saw  clearly  that  in  very  many  cases, 
although  in  fact  I  have  very  bad  health,  it  was  a  temptation 
either  of  the  devil  or  of  my  own  weakness ;  and  since  I  have  been 
less  self-regarding  and  indulgent  my  health  has  been  very  much 
better.  It  is  of  great  importance^  when  we  begin  to  practise 
prayer,  not  to  let  ourselves  be  frightened  by  our  own  thoughts. 
And  you  may  take  my  word  for  this,  for  I  have  learned  it  by 
experience;  this  mere  narration  of  my  faults  might  be  of  use  to 
others  if  they  will  take  warning  by  me. 


XIII]  LIFE  77 

There  is  another  temptation  which  is  very  common — namely 
to  desire  that  everyone  should  be  extremely  spiritual  when  one 
is  beginning  to  find  what  tranquillity,  and  what  profit,  spirituality 
brings.  It  is  not  wrong  to  desire  this  but  it  may  not  be  right 
to  try  to  bnng  it  about  unless  we  do  so  with  Such  discretion  and 
dissimulation  that  we  give  no  impression  of  wanting  to  teach 
others.  For  if  a  person  is  to  do  any  good  in  this  respect  he  must 
be  very  strong  in  the  virtues  so  as  not  to  put  temptation  in 
others'  way.  This  I  found  out  for  myself— and  that  is  why  I 
realize  it.  When,  as  J  have  said,  I  tried  to  get  others  to  practise 
prayer,  and  when  on  the  one  hand  they  would  hear  me  saying 
so  much  about  the  blessedness  of  prayer,  while  on  the  other  they 
would  observe  that  I,  who  practised  it,  was  so  poverty-stricken 
in  virtue,  it  would  lead  them  into  temptations  and  various  Muds 
of  foolishness.  And  they  had  good  reason  on  their  side;  for,  as 
they  have  since  told  me,  they  could  not  see  how  one  of  these 
things  could  be  compatible  with  the  other.  And  so  they  came  to 
believe  that  there  was  nothing  wrong  in  what  was  intrinsically 
evil;  for  they  saw  that  I  sometimes  did  such  things  and  at  that 
time  they  had  rather  a  good  opinion  of  me. 

This  is  the  devil's  doing.  He  seems  to  make  use  of  the  virtues 
which  we  have,  and  which  are  good,  in  order  to  give  such  authority 
as  he  can  to  the  evil  which  he  is  trying  to  make  us  do :  however 
trifling  the  evil  may  be,  it  must  be  of  great  value  to  him  when 
it  is  done  in  a  religious  community — how  much  more,  then, 
must  he  have  gained  from  the  evil  which  I  did,  for  it  was  very 
great.  So,  over  a  period  of  many  years,  only  three  persons 
derived  any  profit  from  what  I  said  to  them;1  whereas,  now  that 
the  Lord  has  made  me  stronger  in  virtue,  many  persons  have 
derived  such  profit  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  years,  as  I  shall 
afterwards  relate.  In  addition,  there  is  another  great  disad- 
vantage in  yielding  to  this  temptation:  namely,  the  harm  caused 
to  our  own  soul;  for  the  utmost  we  have  to  do  at  first  is  to  take 
care  of  our  soul  and  to  remember  that  in  the  entire  world  there 
is  only  God  and  the  soul;2  and  this  is  a  thing  which  it  is  very 
profitable  to  remember. 

Another  temptation  comes  from  the  distress  caused  by  the 

1  According  to  P.  Gracian,  these  persons  were  Maria  de  San  Pablo,  Ana  de  los 
Angeles  and  Dona  Maria  de  Gepeda.   The  same  names  are  given  by  P.  Grecian's 
sister,  M.  Maria  de  San  Jose*.   (B.Nac.,  MS.  12,936.)   [Lewis,  however  (p.  98,  n.  6), 
aptly  remarks  that,  as  shown  in  Chap.  VII  (p.  42,  above),  one  of  the  three  must  have 
been  St.  Teresa's  father.] 

2  [While  there  are  too  many  similarities  between  the  writings  of  St.  Teresa  and  St. 
John  of  the  Cross  for  more  than  a  very  .small  proportion  of  them  to  be  referred  to,  I 
cannot  forbear  quoting  here  the  latter*s  welljoiown  maxim:  "live  in  this  world 
as  though  there  were  an  it  but  God  and  thy  soul,  so*  that  thy  heart  may  be  detained 
by  naught  that  is  human*'  (St.  John  of  the  Cross,  III,  256).] 


78  LIFE  [CHAP. 

sins  and  failings  which  we  see  in  others,  for  we  all  have  a  zeal 
for  virtue  and  so  we  must  learn  to  understand  ourselves  and  walk 
warily.  The  devil  tells  us  that  this  distress  arises  solely  from  our 
desire  that  God  should  not  be  offended  and  from  our  concern 
for  His  honour  and  then  we  immediately  try  to  set  matters  right. 
This  makes  us  so  excited  that  it  prevents  us  from  praying,  and 
the  greatest  harm  of  all  is  that  we  think  this  to  be  a  virtue,  and 
a  sign  of  perfection  and  of  great  zeal  for  God.  I  am  not  referring 
to  the  distress  caused  by  public  offences  in  a  religious  congrega- 
tion, if  they  become  habitual,  or  of  wrongs  done  to  the  Church, 
such  as  heresies,  through  which,  as  we  see,  so  many  souls  are  lost; 
for  distress  caused  by  these  is  right,  and,  being  right,  causes  us 
no  excitement.  Safety,  then,  for  the  soul  that  practises  prayer 
will  consist  in  its  ceasing  to  be  anxious  about  anything  and  any- 
body, and  in  its  watching  itself  and  pleasing  God.  This  is  most 
important.  If  I  were  to  describe  the  mistakes  I  have  seen  people 
make  because  they  trusted  in  their  good  intentions ! 

Let  us  strive,  then,  always  to  look  at  the  virtues  and  the  good 
qualities  which  we  find  in  others,  and  to  keep  our  own  grievous 
sins  before  our  eyes  so  that  we  may  be  blind  to  their  defects. 
This  is  a  course  of  action  which,  though  we  may  not  become 
perfect  in  it  all  at  once,  will  help  us  to  acquire  one  great  virtue — 
namely,  to  consider  all  others  better  than  ourselves.  In  this  way 
we  shall  begin  to  profit,  by  God's  help  (which  is  always  necessary, 
and,  when  it  fails,  our  own  efforts  are  useless),  and  we  must  beg 
Him  to  give  us  this  virtue,  which,  if  we  exert  our  own  efforts, 
He  will  deny  to  none.  This  counsel  must  also  be  remembered 
by  those  who  use  their  intellects  a  great  deal  and  from  one 
subject  can  extract  many  ideas  and  conceptions.  To  those  who 
cannot  do  this — and  I  used  to  be  one — there  is  no  need  to 
offer  any  counsel,  save  that  they  must  have  patience  until  the 
Lord  gives  them  occupation  and  enlightenment,  for  of  them- 
selves they  can  do  so  little  that  their  intellect  hinders  rather 
than  helps  them. 

Returning,  then,  to  those  who  can  make  use  of  their  reasoning 
powers,  I  advise  them  not  to  spend  all  their  time  in  doing  so; 
their  method  of  prayer  is  most  meritorious,  but,  enjoying  it  as 
they  do,  they  fail  to  realize  that  they  ought  to  have  a  kind  of 
Sunday — that  is  to  say,  a  period  of  rest  from  their  labour.  To  stop 
working,  they  think,  would  be  a  loss  of  time,  whereas  my  view 
is  that  this  loss  is  a  great  gain;  let  them  imagine  themselves,  as 
I  have  suggested,  in  the  presence  of  Christ,  and  let  them  remain 
in  converse  with  Him,  and  delighting  in  Him,  without  wearying 
their  minds  or  fatiguing  themselves  by  composing  speeches  to 
Him,  but  laying  their  needs  before  Him  and  acknowledging  how 


XIII]  LIFE  79 

right  He  is  not  to  allow  us  to  be  in  His  presence.  There  is  a  time 
for  one  thing  and  a  time  for  another;  were  there  not,  the  soul 
would  grow  tired  of  always  eating  the  same  food.  These  foods  are 
very  pleasant  and  wholesome;  and,  if  the  palate  is  accustomed 
to  their  taste,  they  provide  great  sustenance  for  the  life  of  the 
soul,  and  bring  it  many  other  benefits. 

I  will  explain  myself  further,  for  these  matters  concerning 
prayer  are  difficult,  and,  if  no  director  is  available,  very  hard 
to  understand.  It  is  for  this  reason  that,  though  I  should  like 
to  write  more  briefly,  and  though  merely  to  touch  upon  these 
matters  concerning  prayer  would  suffice  for  the  keen  intellect 
of  him  who  commanded  me  to  write  of  them,  my  own  stupidity 
prevents  me  from  describing  and  explaining  in  a  few  words  a 
•  matter  which  it  is  so  important  to  expound  thoroughly.  Having 
gone  through  so  much  myself,  I  am  sorry  for  those  who  begin 
with  books  alone,  for  it  is  extraordinary  what  a  difference  there 
is  between  understanding  a  thing  and  knowing  it  by  experience. 
Returning,  then,  to  what  I  was  saying,  we  begin  to  meditate 
upon  a  scene  of  the  Passion — let  us  say  upon  the  binding  of  the 
Lord  to  the  Column.  The  mind  sets  to  work  to  seek  out  the 
reasons  which  are  to  be  found  for  the  great  afflictions  and  distress 
which  His  Majesty  must  have  suffered  when  He  was  alone  there. 
It  also  meditates  on  the  many  other  lessons  which,  if  it  is  in- 
dustrious, or  well  stored  with  learning,  this  mystery  can  teach  it. 
'This  method  should  be  the  beginning,  the  middle  and  the  end 
of  prayer  for  all  of  us :  it  is  a  most  excellent  and  safe  road  until 
the  Lord  leads  us  to  other  methods,  which  are  supernatural. 

I  say  "for  all  of  us,"  but  there  will  be  many  souls  who  derive 
greater  benefits  from  other  meditations  than  from  that  of  the 
Sacred  Passion.  For,  just  as  there  are  many  mansions  in  Heaven, 
so  there  are  many  roads  to  them.  Some  people  derive  benefit 
from  imagining  themselves  in  hell;  others,  whom  it  distresses  to 
think  of  hell,  from  imagining  themselves  in  Heaven.  Others 
meditate  upon  death.  Some,  who  are  tender-hearted,  get  exhausted 
if  they  keep  thinking  about  the  Passion,  but  they  derive  great 
comfort  and  benefit  from  considering  the  power  and  greatness 
of  God  in  the  creatures,  and  the  love  that  He  showed  us,  which 
is  pictured  in  all  things.  This  is  an  admirable  procedure,  provided 
one  does  not  fail  to  meditate  often  upon  the  Passion  and  the 
life  of  Christ,  which  are,  and  have  always  been,  the  source  of 
everything  that  is  good. 

The  beginner  needs  counsel  to  help  him  ascertain  what  benefits 
him  most.  To  this  end  a  director  is  very  necessary;  but  he  must 
be  a  man  of  experience,  or  he  will  tnake  a  great  many  mistakes 
and  lead  souls  along  without  understanding  them  or  without 


8o  LIFE  [CHAP. 

allowing  them  to  learn  to  understand  themselves,  for  the  soul, 
knowing  that  it  is  a  great  merit  to  be  subject  to  its  director,  dares 
not  do  other  than  what  he  commands  it.  I  have  come  across 
souls  so  constrained  and  afflicted  because  of  the  inexperience  of 
their  director  that  I  have  been  really  sorry  for  them.  And  I 
have  found  some  who  had  no  idea  how  to  act  for  themselves; 
for  directors  who  cannot  understand  spirituality  afflict  their 
penitents  both  in  soul  and  in  body  and  prevent  them  from 
making  progress.  One  person  who  spoke  to  me  about  this  had 
been  kept  in  bondage  by  her  director  for  eight  years;  he  would 
not  allow  her  to  aim  at  anything  but  self-knowledge,  yet  the  Lord 
was  already  granting  her  the  Prayer  of  Quiet,  so  she  was  suffering 
great  trials. 

At  the  same  time,  this  matter  of  self-knowledge  must  never  be 
neglected.  No  soul  on  this  road  is  such  a  giant  that  it  does  not 
often  need  to  become  a  child  at  the  breast  again.  (This  must 
never  be  forgotten:  I  may  repeat  it  again  and  again,  for  it  is  of 
great  importance.)  For  there  is  no  state  of  prayer,  however 
sublime,  in  which  it  is  not  necessary  often  to  go  back  to  the 
beginning.  And  self-knowledge  with  regard  to  sin  is  the  bread 
which  must  be  eaten  with  food  of  every  kind,  however  dainty  it 
may  be,  on  this  road  of  prayer:  without  this  bread  we  could  not 
eat  our  food  at  all.  But  bread  must  be  taken  in  moderate  pro- 
portions. When  a  soul  finds  itself  exhausted  and  realizes  clearly 
that  it  has  no  goodness  of  its  own,  when  it  feels  ashamed  in  the 
presence  of  so  great  a  King  and  sees  how  little  it  is  paying  of  all 
that  it  owes  Him,  what  need  is  there  for  it  to  waste  its  time  on 
learning  to  know  itself?  It  will  be  wiser  to  go  on  to  other  matters 
which  the  Lord  sets  before  it,  and  we  are  not  doing  right  if  we 
neglect  such  things,  for  His  Majesty  knows  better  than  we  what 
kind  of  food  is  good  for  us. 

It  is  of  great  importance,  then,  that  the  director  should  be  a 
prudent  man — of  sound  understanding,  I  mean — and  also  an 
experienced  one:  if  he  is  a  learned  man  as  well,  that  is  a  very 
great  advantage.  But  if  all  these  three  qualities  cannot  be  found 
in  the  same  man,  the  first  two  are  the  more  important,  for  it  is 
always  possible  to  find  learned  men  to  consult  when  necessary. 
I  mean  that  learning  is  of  little  benefit  to  beginners,  except  in 
men  of  prayer.  I  do  not  mean  that  beginners  should  have  no 
communication  with  learned  men,  for  I  should  prefer  spirituality 
to  be  unaccompanied  by  prayer  than  not  to  be  founded 
upon  the  truth.  Learning  is  a  great  thing,  for  it  teaches  those 
of  us  who  have  little  knowledge,  and  gives  us  light,  so  that,  when 
we  are  faced  with  the  truth  of  Holy  Scripture,  we  act  as  we 
should.  From  foolish  devotions  may  God  deliver  us! 


XIII]  LIFE  81 

I  want  to  explain  myself  further,  for  I  seem  to  be  getting 
involved  in  a  great  many  subjects.  I  have  always  had  this  failing 
— that  I  cannot  explain  myself,  as  I  have  said,  except  at  the  cost 
of  many  words.  A  nun  begins  to  practise  prayer:  if  her  director 
is  a  simpleton  and  gets  the  idea  into  his  head,  he  will  give  her  to 
understand  that  it  is  better  for  her  to  obey  him  than  her  superior, 
and  he  will  do  this  without  any  evil  intention,  thinking  he  is 
right.  Indeed,  if  he  is  not  a  religious,  it  will  probably  seem  right  to 
him.  If  he  is  dealing  with  a  married  woman,  he  will  tell  her  it  is 
better  for  her  to  be  engaged  in  prayer  when  she  has  work  to  do  in 
her  home,  although  this  may  displease  her  husband:  he  cannot 
advise  her  about  arranging  her  time  and  work  so  that  everything 
is  done  as  true  Christianity  demands.  Not  being  enlightened 
himself,  he  cannot  enlighten  others,  even  if  he  tries.  And  although 
learning  may  not  seem  necessary  for  this,  my  opinion  has  always 
been,  and  always  will  be,  that  every  Christian  should  try  to 
consult  some  learned  person,  if  he  can,  and  the  more  learned 
this  person,  the  better.  Those  who  walk  in  the  way  of  prayer 
have  the  greater  need  of  learning;  and  the  more  spiritual  they 
are,  the  greater  is  their  need. 

Let  us  not  make  the  mistake  of  saying  that  learned  men  who 
do  not  practise  prayer  are  not  suitable  directors  for  those  who  do. 
I  have  consulted  many  such;  and  for  some  years  past,  feeling  a 
greater  need  of  them,  I  have  sought  them  out  more.  I  have 
always  got  on  well  with  them;  for,  though  some  of  them  have  no 
experience,  they  are  not  averse  from  spirituality,  nor  are  they 
ignorant  of  its  nature,  for  they  study  Holy  Scripture,  where  the 
truth  about  it  can  always  be  found.  I  believe  myself  that,  if  a 
person  who  practises  prayer  consults  learned  men,  the  devil 
will  not  deceive  him  with  illusions  except  by  his  own  desire; 
for  I  think  devils  are  very  much  afraid  of  learned  men  who  are 
,  humble  and  virtuous,  knowing  that  they  will  find  them  out  and 
defeat  them. 

I  have  said  this  because  some  people  think  that  learnedjmen, 
if  they  are  not  spiritual,  are  unsuitable  for  those  who  practise 
prayer.  I  have  already  said  that  a  spiritual  director  is  necessary, 
but  if  he  has  no  learning  it  is  a  great  inconvenience.  It  will  help 
us  very  much  to  consult  learned  men,  provided  they  are  virtuous ; 
even  if  they  are  not  spiritual  they  will  do  us  good  and  God  will 
show  them  what  they  should  teach  and  may  even  make  them 
spiritual  so  that  they  may  be  of  service  to  us.  I  do  not  say  this 
without  proof  and  I  have  had  experience  of  quite  a  number.1 
Anyone,  I  repeat,  who  surrenders  his  soul  to  a  single  director, 
and  is  subject  to  him  alone,  will  be  making  a  great  mistake,  if  he 
1  [Z&:  "of  more  than  two" — but  the  expression  is  a  figurative  one.] 


82  LIFE  [CHAP. 

is  a  religious,  and  has  to  be  subject  to  his  own  superior,  in  not 
obtaining  a  director  of  this  kind.  For  the  director  may  be  lacking 
in  all  the  three  things,  and  that  will  be  no  light  cross  for  the 
penitent  to  bear  without  voluntarily  submitting  his  understanding 
to  one  whose  understanding  is  not  good.  For  myself,  I  have  never 
been  able  to  bring  myself  to  do  this,  nor  do  I  think  it  right.  If 
such  a  person  be  in  the  world,  let  him  praise  God  that  he  is  able 
to  choose  the  director  to  whom  he  is  to  be  subject  and  let  him  not 
give  up  such  righteous  freedom;  let  him  rather  remain  without 
a  director  until  he  finds  the  right  one,  for  the  Lord  will  give  him 
one  if  his  life  is  founded  upon  humility  and  he  has  the  desire  to 
succeed.  I  praise  God  greatly,  and  we  women,  and  those  who  are 
not  learned,  ought  always  to  give  Him  infinite  thanks,  that  there 
are  persons  who  with  such  great  labour  have  attained  to  the  truth 
of  which  we  ignorant  people  know  nothing. 

I  am  often  amazed  that  learned  men,  and  religious  in  particular, 
will  give  me  the  benefit  of  what  they  have  gained  with  so  much 
labour,  and  at  no  cost  to  myself  save  the  labour  of  asking  for  it. 
And  to  think  that  there  may  be  people  who  have  no  desire  to 
reap  such  benefits !  God  forbid  it  be  so]  I  see  these  learned  fathers 
bearing  the  trials  of  the  religious  life,  which  are  grievous  ones — 
its  penances,  its  poor  food  and  its  obligation  to  obey:  really,  I  am 
sometimes  downright  ashamed  to  think  of  it.  And  then,  the  scant 
sleep  they  get:  nothing  but  trials,  nothing  but  crosses!  I  think 
it  would  be  very  wrong  for  anyone,  through  his  own  fault,  to 
forfeit  the  benefits  of  such  a  life  as  that.  It  may  be  that  some  of  us 
who  are  free  from  these  trials — who  are  pampered,  as  they  say — 
and  live  just  as  we  like,  think  ourselves  superior  to  those  who 
undergo  them,  merely  because  we  practise  a  little  more  prayer 
than  they. 

Blessed  be  Thou,  Lord.,  Who  hast  made  me  so  incompetent 
and  unprofitable !  Most  heartily  do  I  praise  Thee  because  Thou 
quickenest  so  many  to  quicken  us !  We  should  pray  most  regularly 
for  those  who  give  us  light.  What  would  become  of  us  without 
them  amid  these  great  storms  which  the  Church  now  ha^  to  bear? 
If  some  of  them  have  been  wicked,  the  good  will  shine  the  more. 
May  it  please  the  Lord  to  keep  them  in  His  hand  and  help  them 
to  help  us.  Amen. 

I  have  wandered  far  from  the  aim  with  which  I  began,  but 
for  those  who  are  beginners  it  is  all  to  the  point,  and  it  will  help 
them,  as  they  set  out  upon  so  high  a  journey,  to  keep  their  feet 
planted  upon  the  true  road.  Returning  to  what  I  was  saying—- 
the  meditation  upon  Christ  bound  to  the  Column — it  is  well  to 
reflect  for  a  time  and  to  think  of  the  pains  which  He  bore  there, 
why  He  bore  them,  Who  He  is  that  bore  them  and  with  wjhat  love 


XIII]  LIFE  83 

He  suffered  them.  But  we  must  not  always  tire  ourselves  by  going 
in  search  of  such  ideas ;  we  must  sometimes  remain  by  His  side 
with  our  minds  hushed  in  silence.  If  we  can,  we  should  occupy 
ourselves  in  looking  upon  Him  Who  is  looking  at  us;  keep  Him 
company;  talk  with  Him;  pray  to  Him;  humble  ourselves  before 
Him;  have  our  delight  in  Him;  and  remember  that  He  never 
deserved  to  be  there.  Anyone  who  can  do  this,  though  he  may  be 
but  a  beginner  in  prayer,  will  derive  great  benefit  from  it,  for  this 
kind  of  prayer  brings  many  benefits:  at  least,  so  my  soul  has 
found.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  have  succeeded  in  what  I  have 
tried  to  say;  but  Your  Reverence  will  know.  May  the  Lord  grant 
me  always  to  succeed  in  pleasing  Him.  Amen. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Begins  to  describe  the  second  degree  of  prayer >  in  which  the  Lord  grants  the 
soul  experience  of  more  special  consolations.  This  description  is  made 
in  order  to  explain  the  supernatural  character  of  these  consolations. 
It  should  be  most  carefully  noted. 

Having  now  spoken  of  the  labour  and  manual  effort  with 
which  this  garden  is  watered  when  one  draws  water  from  the  well, 
let  us  now  speak  of  the  second  way  of  drawing  it  which  is  ordained 
by  the  Lord  of  the  garden.  By  using  a  device  of  windlass  and 
buckets  the  gardener  draws  more  water  with  less  labour  and  is 
able  to  take  some  rest  instead  of  being  continually  at  work.  It  is 
this  method,  applied  to  the  prayer  called  the  Prayer  of  Quiet, 
that;  I  now  wish  to  describe. 

This  state,  in  which  the  soul  begins  to  recollect  itself,  borders  on 
the  supernatural,  to  which  it  could  in  no  way  attain  by  its  own 
exertions.  True,  it  sometimes  seems  to  have  been  wearied  by  its 
work  at  the  windlass — its  labouring  with  the  understanding 
and  its  filling  of  the  buckets;  but  in  this  state  the  water  is  higher 
and  thus  much  less  labour  is  required  than  for  the  drawing  of  it 
from  the  well.  I  mean  that  the  water  is  nearer  to  it,  for  grace 
reveals  itself  to  the  soul  more  clearly.  This  state  is  a  recollecting 
of  the  faculties  within  the  soul,  so  that  its  fruition  of  that  con- 
tentment may  be  of  greater  delight.  But  the  faculties  are  not  lost, 
nor  do  they  sleep.  The  will  alone  is  occupied,  in  such  a  way  that, 
without  knowing  how,  it  becomes  captive.  It  allows  itself  to  be 
imprisoned  by  God,  as  one  who  well  knows  itself  to  be  the  captive 
of  Him  Whom  it  loves.  Oh,  my  Jesus  and  Lord,  how  much  Thy 
love  now  means  to  us !  It  binds  our  own  love  so  straitiy  that 


84  LIFE  [CHAP. 

at  that  moment  it  leaves  us  no  freedom  to  love  anything  but 
Thee. 

The  other  two  faculties  help  the  will  so  that  it  may  become 
more  and  more  capable  of  enjoying  so  great  a  blessing,  though 
sometimes  it  comes  about  that,  even  when  the  will  is  in  union,  they 
hinder  it  exceedingly.  When  that  happens  it  should  take  no 
notice  of  them  but  remain  in  its  fruition  and  quiet;  for,  if  it  tries  to 
recollect  them,  both  it  and  they  will  suffer.  At  such  a  time  they  are 
like  doves  which  are  not  pleased  with  the  food  given  them  by  the 
owner  of  the  dovecot,  without  their  having  worked  for  it,  and  go 
in  search  of  food  elsewhere,  but  are  so  unsuccessful  that  they  re- 
turn. Just  so  these  faculties  come  and  go,  to  see  if  the  will  will  give 
them  some  part  of  what  it  is  enjoying.  If  this  be  the  Lord's 
pleasure,  it  throws  them  food  and  they  stop;  if  not,  they  return 
to  their  search.  They  must  reflect  that  they  are  benefiting  the  will ; 
or  sometimes  the  memory  or  the  imagination  may  do  it  harm  by 
trying  to  present  it  with  a  picture  of  what  it  is  enjoying.  The  will, 
then,  must  be  careful  in  its  dealings  with  them,  as  I  shall  explain. 

Everything  that  now  takes  place  brings  the  greatest  consolation, 
and  so  little  labour  is  involved  that,  even  if  prayer  continues  for 
a  long  time,  it  never  becomes  wearisome.  For  the  understanding 
is  now  working  very  gradually  and  is  drawing  very  much  more 
water  than  it  drew  from  the  well.  The  tears  which  God  bestows 
here  flow  joyfully;  though  the  soul  is  conscious  of  them,  it  does 
nothing  to  induce  them. 

This  water  of  great  blessings  and  favours  which  the  Lord  gives 
in  this  state  makes  the  virtues  grow  much  more,  beyond  all  com- 
parison, than  in  the  previous  one;  for  the  soul  is  already  rising 
from  its  miserable  condition  and  gaining  some  slight  foreknowledge 
of  the  joys  of  glory.  This,  I  believe,  makes  the  virtues  grow  and 
also  brings  them  nearer  to  that  true  Virtue  from  Whom  all  virtues 
spring — namely,  God.  For  His  Majesty  begins  to  communicate 
Himself  to  this  soul  and  wishes  it  to  be  conscious  of  the  method 
of  His  communication.  As  soon  as  it  arrives  at  this  state,  it  begins 
to  lose  its  covetousness  for  the  things  of  earth.  And  small  merit  to 
it,  for  it  sees  clearly  that  on  earth  it  cannot  have  a  moment  of  this 
joy;  that  there  are  no  riches,  or  dominions,  or  honours,  or  delights 
which  suffice  to  give  it  such  satisfaction  even  for  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye;  for  this  is  true  joy,  and*  the  soul  realizes  that  itds  this 
which  gives  genuine  satisfaction.  Those  of  us  who  are  on  earth,  it 
seems  to  me,  rarely  understand  where  this  satisfaction  lies.  It 
comes  and  goes.  First  it  is  with  us ;  then  it-leaves  us,  and  we  find 
that  it  is  all  gone,  and  we  cannot  get  it  back  again,  having  no  idea 
how  to  do  so.  For  even  if  we  wear  ourselves  to  pieces  with  penances 
and  prayers  and  all  kinds  of  other  things,  we  can  acquire  but  little 


XIV]  LIFE  85 

if  the  Lord  is  not  pleased  to  bestow  it.  God,  of  His  greatness, 
desires  the  soul  to  realize  that  His  Majesty  is  so  near  it  that  it 
need  not  send  Him  messengers,1  but  may  speak  with  Him  itself; 
nor  need  it  cry  aloud,  because  He  is  so  near  it  that  it  has  only  to 
move  its  lips  and  He  will  understand  it. 

It  seems  beside  the  point  to  say  this,  as  we  know  that  God 
always  understands  us  and  is  always  with  us.  There  is  no  possible 
doubt  that  this  is  so;  but  this  Emperor  and  Lord  of  ours  desires 
us  now  to  realize  that  He  understands  us,  and  what  is  accom- 
plished by  His  presence,  and  that  He  is  about  to  begin  a  special 
work  in  the  soul  through  the  great  satisfaction,  both  inward  and 
outward,  that  He  gives  it,  and  through  the  difference  which  there 
is,  as  I  have  said,  between  this  particular  delight  and  contentment 
and  others  which  we  experience  on  earth,  for  He  seems  to  be  filling 
the  void  in  our  souls  that  we  have  caused  by  our  sins.  This  satis- 
faction resides  in  the  most  intimate  part  of  the  soul,  and  the  soul 
cannot  tell  whence  or  how  it  has  come  to  it;  often  it  knows  neither 
what  to  do,  nor  to  wish,  nor  to  ask.  It  seems  to  find  everything 
at  once,  yet  not  to  know  what  it  has  found:  I  do  not  myself 
know  how  to  explain  this.  For  many  purposes  it  is  necessary  to  be 
learned ;  and  it  would  be  very  useful  to  have  some  learning  here,  in 
order  to  explain  what  is  meaht  by  general  or  particular  help  (for 
there  are  many  who  do  not  know  this)  and  how  it  is  now  the  Lord's 
will  that  the  soul  should  see  this  particular  help  (as  they  say)  with 
its  own  eyes;  and  learning  would  also  serve  to  explain  many  other 
things  about  which  mistakes  may  be  made.  However,  as  what  I 
write  is  to  be  seen  by  persons  who  will  know  if  I  am  wrong,  I  am 
going  on  without  worrying  about  it.  I  know  I  have  no  need  to 
worry  from  the  point  of 'view  either  of  learning  or  of  spirituality, 
as  this  is  going  into  the  possession  of  those  who  will  be  able  to 
judge  it  and  will  cut  out  anything  which  may  be  amiss. 

I  should  like,  then,  to  explain  this,  because  it  is  a  fundamental 
matter,  and,  when  the  Lord  begins  to  grant  these  favours,  the  soul 
itself  does  not  understand  them,  or  know  what  it  ought  to  do. 
If  God  leads  it,  as  He  led  me,  by  the  way  of  fear,  and  there  is  no 
one  who  understands  it,  its  trial  will  be  a  heavy  one;  and  it  will 
be  very  glad  to  read  a  description  of  itself  which  will  show  clearly 
that  it  is  travelling  on  the  right  road.  And  it  will  be  a  great 
blessing  for  it  to  know  what  it  has  to  do  in  order  to  continue  to 
make  progress  in  any  of  these  states :  I  myself,  through  not  knowing 
what  to  do,  have  suffered  much  and  lost  a  great  deal  of  time. 
I  am  very  sorry  for  souls  who  reach  this  state  and  find  themselves 
alone;  for,  although  I  have  read  many  spiritual  books  which 
touch  upon  the  matter,  they  explain  very  little;  and  if  the  soul 

1  [Cf.  St.  John  of  the  Cross:  Spiritual  Confab,  Stanza  VT.] 


86  LIFE  [CHAP. 

has  not  had  a  great  deal  of  practice  in  prayer  it  will  have  as  much 
as  it  can  do  to  understand  its  own  case,  however  much  the  books 
may  explain. 

I  wish  very  much  that  the  Lord  would  help  me  to  set  forth 
the  effects  which  these  things  produce  in  the  soul  and  which 
are  already  verging  on  the  supernatural,  so  that  it  may  be  known 
by  the  effects  which  they  produce  whether  or  no  they  proceed 
from  the  Spirit  of  God.  Known,  I  mean,  to  the  extent  to  which 
it  is  possible  to  know  things  on  earth:  it  is  always  well  that  we 
should  act  with  fear  and  caution,  for,  even  if  these  things  come 
from  God,  the  devil  may  sometimes  be  able  to  transform  himself 
into  an  angel  of  light.1  If  the  soul  has  not  had  a  great  deal  of 
experience  it  will  not  realize  this,  and  so  much  experience  is 
necessary  that,  in  order  to  understand  it,  one  must  have  reached 
the  very  summit  of  prayer.  The  little  time  I  have  makes  it  none 
too  easy  for  me  to  explain  this,  for  which  reason  it  is  necessary 
that  His  Majesty  should  make  the  matter  clear,  for  I  have  my 
work  to  do  in  the  community  and  many  other  occupations  (being 
now  in  a  recently  founded  house,  as  will  be  seen  later2)  and  so  I 
can  never  settle  down  to  what  I  write  but  have  to  do  a  little  at  a 
time.  I  wish  I  had  more  time,  for,  when  the  Lord  gives  inspiration, 
one  can  write  better  and  more  easily.  I  seem  to  be  like  one  work- 
ing with  a  pattern  before  her  and  copying  it  with  her  needle*  I 
can  perform  my  task,  but  if  inspiration  is  wanting  I  can  no  more 
put  my  words  together  properly  than  if  I  were  writing  gibberish, 
as  one  might  say,  however  many  years  I  may  have  spent  in  prayer. 
And  so  I  think  it  is  a  very  great  advantage  to  be  immersed  in 
prayer  when  I  am  writing.  I  realize  clearly  that  it  is  not  I  who  am 
saying  this;  for  I  am  not  putting  it  together  with  my  own  under- 
standing and  afterwards  I  cannot  tell  how  I  have  managed  to 
say  it  at  all.  This  often  happens  to  me. 

Let  us  now  return  to  our  garden,  or  orchard,  and  see  how  these 
trees  begin  to  take  new  life  before  putting  forth  flowers  and 
afterwards  giving  fruit,  and  the  flowers — carnations  and  so  forth  3 — - 
begin  to  give  out  their  fragrance.  I  am  pleased  with  this  comparison, 
for  often,  when  I  was  a  beginner  (and  may  the  Lord  grant  that  I 
have  in  fact  even  now  begun  to  serve  His  Majesty-— but  I  mean 
a  beginner  by  comparison  with  what  I  shall  say  about  my  life  here- 
after), it  used  to  give  me  great  delight  to  think  of  my  soul  as  a 
garden  and  of  the  Lord  as  walking  in  it.  I  would  beg  Him  to 
increase  the  fragrance  of  the  little  buds  of  virtue  which  seemed  to 

1  [  2  Corinthians  xi,  14]. 

*  I.e.,  St.  Joseph's,  Avila. 

8  [Lit. ,  "  the  flowers  and  carnations."  No  doubt  carnations,  with  their  strong 
fragrance,  were  flowers  which  particularly  appealed  to  St.  Teresa,  she  often  lays 
special  stress  on  some-  such  thing  when  it  catches  her  imagination.] 


XIV]  LIFE  87 

be  beginning  to  appear,  and  to  keep  them  alive  so  that  they  might 
bloom  to  His  glory — for  I  wanted  nothing  for  myself— and  I 
would  ask  Him  to  prune  away  any  of  them  He  wished  to,  for  I 
knew  that  the  plants  would  be  all  the  better  if  He  did.  I  speak  of 
pruning,  for  there  come  times  when  the  soul  feels  like  anything 
but  a  garden :  everything  seems  dry  to  it  and  no  water  comes  to 
refresh  it,  and  one  would  think  there  had  never  been  any  kind  of 
virtue  in  it  at  all.  The  soul  suffers  many  trials,  for  the  Lord 
wants  the  poor  gardener  to  think  that  all  the  trouble  he  has  taken 
in  watering  the  garden  and  keeping  it  alive  is  lost.  Then  is  the 
proper  time  for  weeding  and  rooting  out  the  smaller  plants,  and 
this  must  be  done,  however  small  they  may  be,  if  they  are  useless; 
for  we  know  that  no  efforts  of  ours  are  availing  if  God  with- 
holds from  us  the  water  of  grace,  and  we  must  despise  ourselves  as 
nothing  and  as  less  than  nothing.  By  doing  this  we  can  gain  great 
humility  and  then  the  flowers  will  begin  to  grow  afresh. 

O  my  Lord  and  my  Good!  I  cannot  say  this  without  tears 
and  great  delight  of  soul  that  Thou,  Lord,  shouldst  wish  to  be 
with  us,  and  art  with  us,  in  the  Sacrament.  We  may  believe  that 
this  is  so,  in  very  truth,  for  so  it  is,  and  with  the  utmost  truth  we 
may  make  this  comparison;  and  if  our  faults  do  not  impede  us 
we  may  rejoice  in  Thee  and  Thou  wilt  take  Thy  delight  in  us, 
since  Thou  sayest  that  Thy  delight  is  to  be  with  the  children  of 
men.1  O  my  Lord!  What  is  this?  Whenever  I  hear  these  words 
they  are  a  great  comfort  to  me,  as  they  were  even  when  I  had 
gone  far  astray.  Is  it  possible,  Lord,  that  there  can  be  a  soul  which 
reaches  a  state  in  which  Thou  dost  grant  it  such  graces  and  favours 
and  can  realize  that  Thou  takest  Thy  delight  in  it,  and  yet 
offends  Thee  again  after  Thou  hast  shown  it  so  many  favours 
and  such  signal  marks  of  love  that  it  cannot  doubt  them  since  it 
sees  Thy  work  so  clearly?  Yes,  there  is  indeed  such  a  soul — there 
is  myself.  And  I  have  done  this  not  once,  but  often.  May  it  please 
Thy  goodness,  Lord,  that  I  may  be  alone  in  my  ingratitude,  that 
I  may  be  the  only  one  to  have  committed  so  great  a  wrong  and 
been  so  excessively  ungrateful.  Yet  even  from  me  some  good  has 
been  brought  forth  by  Thine  infinite  goodness,  and,  the  greater 
have  been  my  sins,  the  more  has  the  great  blessing  of  Thy  mercies 
shone  forth  in  me.  How  many  reasons  have  I  for  singing  of  them 
for  ever!  I  beseech  Thee,  my  God,  that  it  may  be  so :  may  I  sing 
of  them,  and  that  without  end,  since  Thou -hast  seen  good  to  work 
such  exceeding  great  mercies  in  me  that  they  amaze  those  who 
behold  them,  while  as  for  me,  I  am  drawn  out  of  myself  by  them 
continually,  that  I  may  be  the  better  able  to  sing  Thy  praise. 
For,  so  long  as  I  am  in  myself,  my  Lord,  and  without  Thee,  I  can 

1  Proverbs  viii,  31. 


88  LIFE  [CHAP. 

do  nothing  but  be  cut  off  like  the  flowers  in  this  garden,1  and  this 
miserable  earth  will  become  a  dunghill  again  as  before.  Permit 
it  not,  Lord.  Let  it  not  be  Thy  will  that  a  soul  which  Thou  hast 
purchased  with  so  many  trials  should  be  lost,  when  Thou  hast 
so  often  redeemed  it  anew  and  hast  snatched  it  from  the  teeth 
of  the  horrible  dragon. 

Your  Reverence  must  forgive  me  for  wandering  from  my 
subject:  as  I  am  speaking  with  a  purpose  in  my  mind  you  must  not 
be  surprised.  I  am  writing  what  comes  to  my  soul;  and  at  times 
when,  as  I  write,  the  greatness  of  the  debt  I  owe  Him  rises  up 
before  me,  it  is  only  by  a  supreme  effort  that  I  can  refrain  from 
going  on  to  sing  praises  to  God.  And  I  think  Your  Reverence 
will  not  be  displeased  by  it,  because  I  believe  we  can  both  sing  the 
same  song,  though  in  a  different  way;  for  my  debt  to  God  is  much 
the  greater,  since  He  has  forgiven  me  more,  as  Your  Reverence 
knows. 


CHAPTER  XV 

Continues  speaking  of  the  same  subject  and  gives  certain  counsels  as  to  how 
the  soul  must  behave  in  this  Prayer  of  Quiet.  Tells  how  there  are 
many  souls  who  attain  to  this  prayer  and  few  who  pass  beyond  it. 
The  things  touched  herein  are  very  necessary  and  profitable. 

Let  us  now  return  to  our  subject.  This  quiet  and  recollected- 
ness  in  the  soul  makes  itself  felt  largely  through  the  satisfaction 
and  peace  which  it  brings  to  it,  together  with  a  very  great  joy  and 
repose  of  the  faculties  and  a  most  sweet  delight.  As  the  soul  has 
never  gone  beyond  this  stage,  it  thinks  there  is  no  more  left  for  it  to 
desire  and,  like  Saint  Peter,  it  wishes  that  it  could  make  its  abode 
here.2  It  dares  not  move  or  stir,  for  it  thinks  that  if  it  does  so  this 
blessing  may  slip  from  its  grasp:  sometimes  it  would  like  to  be 
unable  even  to  breathe.  The  poor  creature  does  not  realize 
that,  having  been  unable  to  do  anything  of  itself  to  acquire  that 
blessing,  it  will  be  still  less  able  to  keep  it  longer  than  the  time 
for  which  the  Lord  is  pleased  that  it  shall  possess  it.  I  have  already 
said  that,  in  this  first  state  of  recollection  and  quiet,  the  faculties  of 
the  soul  do  not  fail;  but  the  soul  has  such  satisfaction  in  God  that, 
although  the  other  two  faculties  may  be  distracted,  yet,  since  the 
will  is  in1  union  with  God  for  as  long  as  the  recollection  lasts,  its 

1  [The  verb  sorter,  here  translated  "cut  off",  is  rendered  "prune",  "prune  away" 
just  above  (p.  87).  The  sense  is  different  here  but  the  author  seems  to  have  the 
earlier  passage  in  mind.] 

*  St.  Matthew  xvii,  4. 


XV]  LIFE  89 

quiet  and  repose  are  not  lost,  but  the  will  gradually  brings  the 
understanding  and  memory  back  to  a  state  of  recollection  again. 
For,  although  the  will  is  not  yet  completely  absorbed,  it  is  so  well 
occupied,  without  knowing  how,  that,  whatever  the  efforts  made 
by  the  understanding  and  memory,  they  cannot  deprive  it  of  its 
contentment  and  rejoicing:  indeed,  without  any  labour  on  its 
part,  it  helps  to  prevent  this  little  spark  of  love  for  God  from 
being  quenched. 

May  His  Majesty  give  me  grace  to  explain  this  clearly,  for 
there  are  many,  many  souls  that  reach  this  state  and  few  that 
pass  beyond  it,  and  I  do  not  know  who  is  to  blame  for  this. 
Most  certainly  it  is  not  God;  Tor,  since  His  Majesty  grants  us 
the  favour  of  advancing  to  this  point,  I  do  not  believe  that, 
unless  there  are  faults  on  our  part,  He  will  fail  to  grant  us  many 
more  favours.  It  is  very  important  that  the  soul  which  arrives 
thus  far  should  recognize  the  great  dignity  of  its  state  and  the 
greatness  of  the  favours  which  the  Lord  has  granted  it,  and 
how  there  is  good  reason  why  it  should  not  belong  to  the  earth, 
since,  unless  its  own  faults  impede  it,  His  goodness  seems  to  be 
making  it  a  citizen  of  Heaven.  Alas  for  such  a  soul  if  it  turns 
back !  If  it  does  so,  I  think  it  will  begin  to  go  downhill,  as  I 
should  have  done  had  not  the  Lord's  mercy  saved  me.  For, 
as  a  rule,  I  believe,  it  can  be  due  only  to  grave  faults :  it  is  im- 
possible to  forfeit  so  great  a  blessing  save  through  gross  blindness 
caused  by  much.  evil. 

And  so,  for  love  of  the  Lord,  I  beg  the  souls  whom  His  Majesty 
has  granted  so  great  a  favour  as  to  attain  to  this  state  to  learn 
to  know  themselves,  and  to  hold  themselves,  with  a  humble  and 
a  holy  presumption,  in  high  esteem,  so  that  they  shall  not  return 
to  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt.  And  if,  through  their  weakness  and 
wickedness  and  their  miserable  and  wretched  nature,  they  fall, 
as  I  did,  let  them  ever  bear  in  mind  what  a  blessing  they  have 
lost,  and  preserve  their  misgivings  and  walk  fearfully,  as  they 
have  good  reason  to  do,  for  unless  they  return  to  prayer  they 
will  go  from  bad  to  worse.  I  should  call  anything  a  real  fall 
which  made  us  hate  the  road  that  had  led  us  to  so  great  a  blessing. 
In  talking  to  these  souls  I  do  not  say  that  they  will  not  offend 
God  and  fall  into  sin;  anyone  who  has  begun  to  receive  these 
favours  would  be  right  in  guarding  himself  carefully  against 
falling;  for  we  are  miserable  sinners.  What  I  strongly  advise 
them  to  do  is  not  to  give  up  prayer,  for  prayer  will  enlighten  them 
as  to  what  they  are  doing,  and  the  Lord  will  grant  them  repen- 
tance and  strength  to  rise  again.  They  must  believe,  and  keep 
on  believing,  that  if  they  cease  from  prayer  they  are  running 
(or  so  I  think)  into  danger.  I  am  not  sure  if  I  understand  what 


go  LIFE  [CHAP. 

I  am  saying,  because,  as  I  have  said,  I  am  judging  from  my 
own  experience. 

This  prayer,  then,  is  a  little  spark  of  true  love  for  the  Lord 
which  He  begins  to  enkindle  in  the  soul,  and  His  will  is  that  it 
should  come  to  understand  the  nature  of  this  love  with  its  atten- 
dant joy.  This  quiet  and  recollection — this  little  spark — if  it 
proceeds  from  the  Spirit  of  God  and  is  not  a  pleasure  bestowed 
on  us  by  the  devil  or  sought  by  ourselves,  is  not  a  thing  that  can 
be  acquired,  as  anyone  who  has  experience  of  it  must  perforce 
realize  immediately,  but  this  nature  of  ours  is  so  eager  for  delec- 
table experiences  that  it  tries  to  get  all  it  can.  Soon,  however, 
it  becomes  very  cold;  for,  hard  as  we  may  try  to  make  the  fire 
burn  in  order  to  obtain  this  pleasure,  we  seem  only  to  be  throwing 
water  on  it  to  quench  it.  This  little  spark,  then,  planted  within 
us  by  God,  small  though  it  is,  makes  a  loud  noise;  and  if  we  do 
not  quench  it  through  some  fault  of  our  own,  it  is  this  that 
begins  to  kindle  the  great  fire  which  (as  I  shall  say  in  due  course) 
sends  forth  the  flames  of  that  most  ardent  love  of  God  with  which 
His  Majesty  endows  the  souls  of  the  perfect. 

This  spark  is  given  to  the  soul  by  God  as  a  sign  or  pledge  that  He 
is  already  choosing  it  for  great  things  if  it  will  prepare  itself  to 
receive  them.  It  is  a  great  gift,  much  greater  than  I  can  say. 
I  am  very  sorry  for  this,  for,  as  I  have  said,  I  know  many  souls 
who  attain  thus  far;  and  I  know,  too,  that  those  who  go  farther, 
as  they  ought  to  do,  are  so  few  that  I  am  ashamed  to  confess  it. 
I  do  not  mean  that  they  are  really  few,  for  there  must  be  a  great 
many  of  them,  since  God  does  not  uphold  us  without  a  purpose. 
I  ani  merely  telling  what  I  have  seen.  I  should  like  very  much 
to  advise  such  persons  to  be  careful  not  to  hide  their  talent,  for 
it  would  seem  that  God  is  pleased  to  choose  them  to  the  advantage 
of  many,  especially  in  these  times  when  He  needs  His  friends 
to  be  strong  so  that  they  may  uphold  the  weak.  Let  those  who 
recognize  that  they  themselves  have  this  grace  look  upon  them- 
selves as  His  friends  if  they  can  fulfil  the  obligations  which  even 
the  world  demands  of  faithful  friendship.  Otherwise,  as  I  have 
just  said,  let  them  fear  and  tremble  lest  they  be  doing  some  harm 
to  themselves — and  please  God  it  be  to  themselves  alone! 

What  the  soul  has  to  do  at  these  seasons  of  quiet  is  merely  to 
go  softly-  and  make  no  noise.  By  noise,  I  mean  going  about 
with  the  understanding  in  search  of  many  words  and  reflections 
with  which  to  give  thanks  for  this  benefit  and  piling  up  its  sins 
and  imperfections  so  as  to  make  itself  realize  that  it  does  not 
deserve  it.  It  is  now  that  all  this  movement  takes  place:  the 
understanding  brings  forward  its  representations  and  the  ngiemory 
becomes  active — and  sometimes  I  myself  find  these  faculties  really 


XV]  LIFE  91 

wearisome,  for,  weak  though  my  memory  is,  I  cannot  subdue 
it.  The  will  must  be  calm  and  discreet  and  realize  that  we 
cannot  treat  effectively  with  God  by  the  might  of  our  own 
efforts  and  that  these  are  like  great  logs  of  wood  being  heaped 
up  indiscriminately  so  that  they  will  quench  this  spark.  Let  it 
recognize  this  and  with  all  humility  say:  "Lord,  what  can  I 
do  here?  What  has  the  servant  to  do  with  her  Lord?  What  has 
earth  to  do  with  Heaven?"  Or  let  it  utter  any  words  of  love 
which  come  to  its  mind,  with  the  firm  and  sure  knowledge  that 
what  it  is  saying  is  the  truth;  and  let  it  take  no  notice  of  the 
understanding,  which  is  merely  making  itself  a  nuisance.  And 
if  the  will  wishes  to  communicate  its  joy  to  the  understanding, 
or  strives  to  lead  it  into  recollection  (as  will  often  happen  in  this 
union  of  the  will  and  state  of  tranquillity),  and  the  understanding 
is  very  much  disturbed,  it  will  do  better  to  leave  it  alone  than 
to  run  after  it.  Let  it  (the  will,  I  mean)  continue  in  the  fruition 
of  that  favour,  and  be  as  recollected  as  the  wise  little  bee,  for  if 
no  bees  entered  the  hive  and  they  all  went  about  trying  to  bring 
each  other  in,  there  would  not  be  much  chance  of  their  making 
any  honey. 

The  soul  will  lose  a  great  deal  if  it  is  not  careful  about  this, 
especially  if  it  has  a  lively  understanding,  with  the  result  that, 
when  it  begins  to  hold  discourse  with  itself  and  think  out  reflec- 
tions, it  will  soon  begin  to  fancy  it  is  doing  something  worth 
while  if  its  discourses  and  reflections  are  at  all  clever.  All  that 
the  reason  has  to  do  in  this  state  is  to  understand  that  there  is 
no  reason,  save  His  goodness  alone,  why  God  should  grant  us 
so  great  a  favour,  and  to  realize  that  we  are  very  near  Hun,  and 
to  beg  favours  of  His  Majesty,  and  to  pray  to  Him  for  the  Church 
and  for  those  who  have  been  commended  to  us  and  for  the  souls 
in  purgatory — not,  however,  with  any  noise  of  words,  though 
with  a  hearty  desire  that  He  may  hear  us.  This  is  a  prayer  that 
comprises  a  great  deal  and  achieves  more  than  any  amount  of 
meditation  on  the  part  of  the  understanding.  Let  the  will,  in 
order  to  quicken  its  love,  arouse  within  itself  certain  reasons 
which  reason  itself  will  picture -to  it  when  it  sees  itself  in  so  much 
better  a  state.  Let  it  make  certain  acts  of  love,  too,  concerning 
what  it  will  do  for  Him  to  Whom  it  owes  so  much,  without 
allowing  the  understanding  to  make  any  noise,  as  I  have  said, 
in  its  search  for  these  clever  reflections.  A  few  little  straws  laid 
down  with  humility  (and  they  will  be  less  than  straws  if  it  is 
we  who  lay  them  down)  are  more  to  the  point  here,  and  of 
more  use  for  kindling  the  fire,  than  any  amount  of  wood — that 
i$,  of  the  most  learned  reasoning— which,  in  our  opinion,  will 
put  it  out  in  a  moment.  This  will  be  good  advice  for  the  learned 


92  LIFE  [CHAP. 

men  who  are  commanding  me  to  write,  for,  by  the  goodness  of 
God,  all  of  them  will  reach  this  state,  and  it  may  be  they  will 
spend  their  time  in  making  applications  of  verses  from  Scripture; 
but,  although  they  will  have  no  difficulty  in  making  good  use 
of  their  learning  both  before  and  after  prayer,  they  will  have 
little  need  for  it,  in  my  view,  during  their  actual  periods  of  prayer, 
when  it  will  only  make  their  will  lukewarm;  for  at  those  times 
the  understanding,  through  being  so  near  the  light,  sees  with 
the  greatest  clearness,  so  that  even  I,  though  the  sort  of  person 
I  am,  seem  to  be  quite  different. 

Thus,  when  in  this  state  of  Quiet,  I,  who  understand  hardly 
anything  that  I  recite  in  Latin,  particularly  in  the  Psalter,  have 
not  only  been  able  to  understand  the  text  as  though  it  were  in 
Spanish  but  have  even  found  to  my  delight  that  I  can  penetrate 
the  meaning  of  the  Spanish.  Let  us  leave  out  of  account  occasions 
when  these  learned  men  have  to  preach  or  teach,  for  then  it 
will  be  well  for  them  to  make  use  of  their  learning,  so  as  to 
help  poor  ignorant  creatures  like  myself,  for  charity  is  a  great 
thing,  and  so  is  a  constant  care  for  souls,  when  undertaken 
simply  and  purely  for  the  sake  of  God.  In  these  periods  of  Quiet, 
then,  let  the  soul  repose  in  its  rest;  let  them  put  their  learning 
aside;  the  time  will  come  when  they  will  use  it  in  the  Lord's 
service  and  will  esteem  it  so  much  that  they  would  not  have 
failed  to  acquire  it  for  all  the  treasures  imaginable,  simply 
because  they  can  serve  His  Majesty  with  it  and  for  this  purpose 
find  it  a  great  help.  But  in  the  sight  of  Infinite  Wisdom,  believe 
me,  there  is  more  value  in  a  little  study  of  humility  and  in  a 
single  act  of  it  than  in  all  the  knowledge  in  the  world.  So  in 
this  state  there  is  no  room  for  argument  but  only  for  a  plain 
recognition  of  what  we  are,  a  presenting  of  ourselves  in  our 
simplicity  before  God,  Whose  will  is  that  the  soul  should  become 
a  fool,  as  in  truth  it  is  in  His  sight,  for  it  is  due  to  His  Majesty's 
great  humility,1  we  being  what  we  are,  that  He  suffers  it  to  be 
near  Him. 

The  understanding  is  also  active  now  and  gives  thanks  in  set 
terms;  but  the  will,  in  its  tranquillity,  is  like  the  publican  and 
dares  not  lift  up  its  eyes,  yet  perhaps  makes  a  better  thanks- 
giving than  the  understanding  can  even  when  it  has  exhausted 
all  its  rhetoric.  In  short,  mental  prayer  must  not  be  completely 
given  up,  nor  yet  must  vocal  prayer,  if  we  ever  wish  to  turn 
to  it  and  are  able  to  do  so;  for,  if  the  state  of  Quiet  is  intense, 
it  becomes  difficult  to  speak  except  with  great  distress.  In  my 

1  Without  altering  the  word  "humility",  P.  Bdnez  wrote  underneath  it,  in  the 
original  manuscript,  "humanity".  This  emendation  [if  it  was  meant  for  one]  has 
been  adopted  by  none  of  the  editions. 


XV]  LIFE  93 

own  opinion,  it  is  possible  to  tell  if  this  state  comes  from  the 
Spirit  of  God  or  if,  starting  from  devotion  given  us  by  God, 
we  have  attained  to  it  by  our  own  efforts.  In  the  latter  case,  as 
I  have  said,  we  try  of  our  own  accord  to  pass  on  to  this  quiet 
of  the  will,  and  nothing  comes  of  it;  everything  is  quickly  over 
and  we  are  left  in  a  state  of  aridity.  If  it  comes  from  the  devil, 
I  think  a  practised  soul  will  realize  this,  for  it  leaves  behind  it 
disquiet  and  very  little  humility  and  does  little  to  prepare  the 
soul  for  the  effects  produced  by  such  prayer  when  it  comes  from 
God.  It  leaves  neither  light  in  the  understanding  nor  steadfast- 
ness in  the  will.1 

The  devil,  in  such  a  case,  can  do  little  or  no  harm  if  the" 
soul  directs  the  delight  and  sweetness  which  it  now  feels  towards 
God  and  fixes  its  thoughts  and  desires  upon  Him,  as  it  has  already 
been  advised  to  do.  He  can  gain  nothing;  in  fact,  by  Divine 
permission,  the  very  delight  which  he  causes  in  the  soul  will 
contribute  to  his  frustration.  For  this  delight  will  help  the  soul: 
thinking  it  to  be  of  God,  it  will  often  come  to  its  prayer  with  a 
desire  for  Him;  and  if  it  is  a  humble  soul,  and  not  curious  or 
eager  for  joys,  even  for  spiritual  joys,  but  attached  to  the  Gross, 
it  will  pay  little  attention  to  pleasure  given  by  the  devil,  but 
will  be  unable  to  disregard  that  which  comes  from  the  Spirit 
of  God,  for  this  it  will  hold  in  high  esteem.  When  the  devil, 
being  altogether  a  liar,  sends  the  soul  any  pleasure  or  delight, 
and  sees  that  this  is  causing  it  to  humble  itself  (and  it  should 
try  to  be  humble  in  all  that  concerns  prayer  and  consolations), 
he  will  often  see  how  he  has  been  frustrated  and  refrain  from 
trying  again.  For  this  and  for  many  reasons,  in  writing  of  the 
first  kind  of  prayer,  and  of  the  first  water,  I  pointed  out  that 
it  is  most  important  for  souls,  when  they  begin  to  practise  prayer, 
to  start  by  detaching  themselves  from  every  kind  of  pleasure, 
and  to  enter  upon  their  prayer  with  one  sole  determination,  to 
help  Christ  bear  His  Cross.  Anxious,  like  good  knights,  to  serve 
their  King  without  pay,  since  they  are  quite  sure  of  their  final 
reward,  they  will  keep  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  true  and  ever- 
lasting kingdom  to  which  we  are  striving  to  attain. 

It  is  a  very  great  thing  always  to  bear  this  in  mind,  especially 
at  first;  later,  we  realize  it  so  clearly  that  we  need  to  forget  it, 
so  that  we  may  live  out  our  lives,  rather  than  to  try  to  recall 
to  our  memory  how  brief  is  the  duration  of  everything,  and  how 

1The  original  has  "truth"  (verdad),  not  "will"  (voluntod).  [P.  Silverio,  while 
agreeing  that  vohaitad  is  more  logical,  respects  the  clear  reading  of  the  autograph  and 
gives  verdad\  but  the  context,  I  think,  makes  it  quite  clear  that  "will**  is  meant, 
and  the  two  words,  in  the  Spanish,  are  sufficiently  alike  to  be  confused  by  a  writer 
as  often  inaccurate  as  St.  Teresa.  Lewis,  p.  122,  n.,  cites  three  Spanish  commentators 
who  have  adopted  volwtad)  though  he  himself  translates  "  truth  ".] 


4  LIFE  [CHAP. 

othing  is  of  any  value,  and  how  such  earthly  rest  as  we  have 
lust  be  reckoned  as  no  rest  at  all.  This  seems  to  be  a  very 
)w  ideal,  and  so  indeed  it  is,  and  those  who  have  reached  a 
lore  advanced  state,  and  a  greater  degree  of  perfection,  would 
onsider  it  a  reproach  and  be  ashamed  if  they  thought  that  the 
sason  they  were  renouncing  the  good  things  of  this  world  was 
ecause  these  must  pass  away:  even  were  such  things  everlasting, 
ley  would  rejoice  to  give  them  up  for  God.  The  nearer  are 
aese  souls  to  perfection,  the  greater  would  be  their  joy,  and  the 
reater,  too,  would  it  be  if  these  earthly  blessings  lasted  longer. 

In  souls  like  these  love  is  already  highly  developed  and  it  is 
Dve  which  works  in  them.  But  for  beginners  this  other  considera- 
Lon  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  and  they  must  not  look  upon 
.  as  a  low  ideal,  for  the  blessing  that  it  brings  is  a  great  one, 
nd  for  this  reason  I  strongly  commend  it  to  them:  even  those 
/ho  have  reached  great  heights  of  prayer  will  find  it  necessary, 
/hen  from  time  to  time  God  is  pleased  to"  prove  them  and  His 
/Iajestyw  seems  to  have  forsaken  them.  For,  as  I  have  already 
aid — and  I  should  not  like  this  to  be  forgotten — in  this  life  of 
urs  the  soul  does  not  grow  in  the  way  the  body  does,  though 
/e  speak  as  if  it  did,  and  growth  does  in  fact  occur.  But  whereas 

child,  after  attaining  to  the  full  stature  of  a  man,  does  not 
iminish  in  size  so  that  his  body  becomes  small  again,  in  spiritual 
latters  the  Lord  is  pleased  that  such  diminution  should  take 
lace — at  least,  according  to  my  own  observation,  for  I  have 
o  other  means  of  knowing.  This  must  be  in  order  to  humble 
s  for  our  greater  good,  and  so  that  we  may  not  grow  careless 
tfiile  we  are  in  this  exile;  for,  the  higher  a  person  has  climbed, 
le  more  fearful  he  should  be  and  the  less  he  should  trust  him- 
slf.  There  come  times  when  those  whose  will  is  so  completely 
ibjected  to  the  will  of  God  that  they  would  let  themselves  be 
Drtured  rather  than  be  guilty  of  one  imperfection  and  die  a 
lousand  deaths  rather  than  commit  sins,  find  it  necessary,  if 
icy  are  to  be  free  from  offending  God,  when  they  see  them- 
ilves  assaulted  by  temptations  and  persecutions,  to  make  use 
E"  the  primary  weapons — that  is,  of  prayer — and  thus  to  recall 

>  themselves  that  everything  comes  to  an  end,  that  there  is  a 
eaven  and  a  hell,  and  other  truths  of  the  same  kind. 

Returning  now  to  what  I  was  saying,  the  great  foundation 
hich  we  must  lay,  if  we  are  to  be  delivered  from  the  snares 
id  pleasures  sent  by  the  devil,  is  the  initial  determination  not 

>  desire  these  pleasures,  but  to  walk  from  the  first  in  the  way 
*  the  Cross.   For  the  Lord  Himself  showed  us  this  way  of  per- 
ction  when  He  said:  "Take  up  thy  cross  and  follow  Me."1 

1  St.  Matthew  xvi,  124 


XV]  LIFfi  95 

He  is  our  Pattern;  and  those  who  follow  His  counsels  with  the 
sole  aim  of  pleasing  Him  have  nothing  to  fear. 

They  will  know,  by  the  improvement  which  they  discern  in 
themselves,  that  this  is  not  the  work  of  the  devil.  For,  even 
though  they  keep  falling,  there  is  one  sign  that  the  Lord  has 
been  with  them — namely,  the  speed  with  which  they  rise  again. 
There  are  also  other  signs,  which  I  shall  now  describe.  When 
the  Spirit  of  God  is  at  work,  there  is  no  need  to  go  about  looking 
for  ways  of  inducing  humility  and  confusion;  for  the  Lord 
Himself  reveals  these  to  us  in  a  very  different  manner  from  any 
which  we  can  find  by  means  of  our  puny  reflections,  which  are 
nothing  by  comparison  with  a  true  humility  proceeding  from 
the  light  given  us  in  this  way  by  the  Lord.  This  produces  a 
confusion  which  quite  overwhelms  us.  The  bestowal  upon  us  of 
this  knowledge  by  God  so  that  we  may  learn  that  we  ourselves 
have  nothing  good  is  a  well-known  experience,  and  the  greater 
are  the  favours  we  receive  from  Him,  the  better  we  learn  it. 
He  gives  us  a  burning  desire  to  make  progress  in  prayer,  and 
not  to  abandon  it,  however  great  the  trials  it  may  bring  us.  We 
offer  ourselves  wholly  to  Him  and  we  experience  a  security 
combined  with  humility  and  fear  with  respect  to  our  salvation. 
This  casts  out  from  the  soul  all  servile  fear  and  implants  in  it  a 
very  much  maturer  fear  which  springs  from  faith.  We  realize 
that  there  is  beginning  to  develop  within  us  a  love  of  God  entirely 
devoid  of  self-interest  and  we  desire  periods  of  solitude  in  order 
to  have  the  greater  fruition  of  that  blessing. 

Let  me  end,  lest  I  should  grow  weary,  by  saying  that  this 
prayer  is  the  beginning  of  all  blessings:  the  flowers  have  now 
reached  a  point  at  which  they  are  almost  ready  to  bloom.  The 
soul  is  very  conscious  of  this  and  at  such  a  time  it  could  not 
possibly  decide  that  God  was  not  with  it;  only  when  it  becomes 
conscious  once  more  of  its  failings  and  imperfections  does  it 
grow  fearful  of  everything,  as  it  is  well  that  it  should.  There  are 
souls,  nevertheless,  whose  confidence  that  God  is  with  them 
brings  them  benefits  which  are  greater  than  all  the  fears  that 
can  beset  them.  For,  if  a  soul  is  by  nature  loving  and  grateful^ 
the  remembrance  of  the  favour  which  God  has  granted  it  causes 
it  to  turn  to  God  despite  all  the  punishments  of  hell  which  it 
can  imagine.  This,  at  any  rate,  was  what  happened  to  me, 
wicked  as  I  am. 

As  I  shall  go  on  later  to  speak  of  the  signs  of  true  spirituality — 
and  it  has  cost  me  much  labour  to  apprehend  them  clearly — 
I  am  not  going  to  speak  of  them  here  and  now.  I  believe  that,  by 
God's  help,  I  shall  be  able  to  do  so  with  some  degree  of  success; 
for,  quite  apart  from  the  experiences  which  have  done  me  so 


96  LIFE  [CHAP. 

much  good,  I  have  been  taught  by  certain  very  learned  men 
and  very  holy  persons  to  whom  it  is  right  that  credence  should 
be  given,  so  that  souls  which  by  the  Lord's  goodness  reach  this 
point  may  not  become  as  fatigued  as  I  did. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Treats  of  the  third  degree  of  prayer  and  continues  to  expound  veiy  lofty 
matters^  describing  what  the  soul  that  teaches  this  state  is  able  to  dp 
and  the  effects  produced  by  these  great  favours  of  the  Lord.  This 
chapter  is  well  calculated  to  uplift  the  spirit  in  praises  to  God  and 
to  provide  great  consolation  for  those  who  teach  this  state. 

Let  us  now  go  on  to  speak  of  the  third  water  with  which  this 
garden  is  watered — that  is,  of  running  water  proceeding  from  a 
river  or  a  spring.  This  irrigates  the  garden  with  much  less 
trouble,  although  a  certain  amount  is  caused  by  the  directing  of 
it.  But  the  Lord  is  now  pleased  to  help  the  gardener,  so  that  He 
may  almost  be  said  to  be  the  gardener  Himself,  for  it  is  He  Who 
does  everything.  This  state  is  a  sleep  of  the  faculties,  which  are 
neither  wholly  lost  nor  yet  can  understand  how  they  work. 
The  pleasure  and  sweetness  and  delight  are  incomparably  greater 
than  in  the  previous  state,  for  the  water  of  grace  rises  to  the 
very  neck  of  the  soul,  so  that  it  is  unable  to  go  forward,  and  has 
no  idea  how  to  do  so,  yet  neither  can  it  turn  back:  it  would  fain 
have  the  fruition  of  exceeding  great  glory.  It  is  like  a  person 
holding  the  candle  in  his  hand1,  who  is  *  soon  to  die  a  death  that 
he  longs  for;  and  in  that  agony  it  is  rejoicing  with  ineffable  joy. 
This  seems  to -me  to  be  nothing  less  than  an  all  but  complete 
death  to  everything  in  the  world  and  a  fruition  of  God.  I  know 
no  other  terms  in  which  to  describe  it  or  to  explain  it,  nor  does 
the  soul,  at  such  a  time,  know  what  to  do:  it  knows  not  whether 
to  speak  or  to  be  silent,  whether  to  laugh  or  to  weep.  This  state 
is  a  glorious  folly,  a  heavenly  madness,  in  which  true  wisdom  is 
acquired,  and  a  mode  of  fruition  in  which  the  soul  finds  the 
greatest  delight 

It  is  now,  I  believe,  some  five,  or  perhaps  six,  years  since  the 
Lord  granted  me  this  prayer  in  abundance,  and  granted  it  me 
many  times,  yet  I  never  understood  it  or  knew  how  to  describe 
it.  My  intention,  therefore,  when  I  reached  'this  point,  was  to 
say  very  little  about  it,  or  even  nothing  at  all.  I  fully  realized 

1  [I  have  translated  literally,  but  the  phrase,  a  common  one  in  Spanish,  is  equivalent 
to  "at  the  point  of  death."] 


XVI]  LIFE  97 

that  it  was  not  a  complete  union  of  all  the  faculties  and  yet  it 
was  very  obviously  something  higher  than  the  previous  state 
of  prayer;  but  I  confess  that  I  could  neither  decide  nor  under- 
stand the  nature  of  this  difference.  I  believe  it  is  because  of 
Your  Reverence's  humility  in  consenting  to  be  helped  by  sim- 
plicity as  great  as  mine  that  to-day,  after  I  had  communicated, 
the  Lord  granted  me  this  prayer,  without  allowing  me  to  go 
beyond  it,  and  set  these  comparisons  before  me,  and  taught  me 
how  to  express  all  this  and  to  describe  what  the  soul  in  this 
state  must  do.  I  was  certainly  astonished,  for  in  a  moment  I 
understood  everything.  I  used  often  to  commit  follies  because 
of  this  love,  and  to  be  inebriated  with  it,  yet  I  had  never  been 
able  to  understand  its  nature.  I  realized  that  it  came  from 
God  but  I  could  not  understand  the  method  of  His  working; 
for  the  truth  is  that  the  faculties  are  in  almost  complete  union, 
though  not  so  much  absorbed  as  not  to  act.  I  am  extremely 
pleased  at  having  understood  it  at  last.  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  Who 
has  given  me  this  consolation! 

The  faculties  retain  only  the  power  of  occupying  themselves 
wholly  with  God;  not  one  of  them,  it  seems,  ventures  to  stir, 
nor  can  we  cause  any  of  them  to  move  except  by  trying  to  fix 
our  attention  very  carefully  on  something  else,  and  even  then 
I  do  not  think  we  could  entirely  succeed  in  doing  so.  Many 
words  are  spoken,  during  this  state,  in  praise  of  God,  but,,  unless 
the  Lord  Himself  puts  order  into  them,  they  have  no  orderly 
form.  The  understanding,  at  any  rate,  counts  for  nothing  here; 
the  soul  would  like  to  shout  praises .  aloud,  for  it  is  in  such  a 
state  that  it  cannot  contain  itself — a  state  of  delectable  disquiet. 
Already  the  flowers  are  opening:  see,  they  are  beginning  to 
send  out  their  fragrance.  The  soul  would  like  everyone  to  see 
her  now,  and  become  aware  of  her  glory,  to  the  praise  of  God, 
and  help  her  to  sing  His  praises.  She  seems  to  me  like  the  woman 
spoken  of  in  the  Gospel,  who  wanted  to  call  (or  did  call)  her 
neighbours1.  Such  as  these,  I  think,  must  have  been  the  wondrous 
feelings  of  the  royal  prophet  David,  when  he  played  on  the 
harp  and  sang  in  praise  of  God.  I  am  very  much  devoted  to 
this  glorious  long  and  I  wish  all  were,  especially  those  of  us  who 
are  sinners.2 

0  God,  what  must  that  soul  be  like  when  it  is  in  this  state! 
It  would  fain  be  all  tongue,  so  that  it  might  praise  the  Lord. 
It  utters  a  thousand  holy  follies,  striving  ever  to  please  Him  Who 
thus  possesses  it.  I  know  a  person  who,  though  no  poet,  composed 

1  St.  Luke  xv,  9. 

*  The  feast  of  King  David  is  to  be  found  in  the  Carmelite  calendar  revised  by  the 
Chapter-General  in  1564. 


gfc  LIFE  [CHAP. 

some  verses  in  a  very  short  time,  which  were  full  of  feeling  and 
admirably  descriptive  of  her  pain1:  they  did  not  come  from 
her  understanding,  but,  in  order  the  better  to  enjoy  the  bliss 
which  came  to  her  from  such  delectable  pain,  she  complained 
of  it  to  her  God.  She  would  have  been  glad  if  she  could  have 
been  cut  to  pieces,  body  and  soul,  to  show  what  joy  this  pain 
caused  her.  What  torments  could  have  been  set  before  her  at 
such  a  time  which  she  would  not  have  found  it  delectable  to 
endure  for  her  Lord's  sake?  She  sees  clearly  that,  when  the 
martyrs  suffered  their  torments,  they  did  hardly  anything  of 
themselves,  for  the  soul  is  well  aware  that  fortitude  comes  from 
somewhere  outside  itself.  But  what  will  the  soul  experience 
when  it  regains  its  senses  and  goes  back  to  live  in  the  world 
and  has  to  return  to  the  world's  preoccupations  and  formalities? 
I  do  not  think  what  I  say  is  in  the  least  exaggerated;  I  have 
rather  fallen  short  of  the  truth  in  describing  this  kind  of  rejoicing 
which  the  Lord  desires  a  soul  to  experience  while  in  this  exile. 
Blessed  be  Thou,  Lord,  for  ever;  let  all  things  for  ever  praise 
Thee.  Be  pleased  now,  my  King,  I  beseech  Thee,  to  ordain 
that  since,  as  I  write  this,  I  am,  by  Thy  goodness  and  mercy, 
not  yet  recovered  from  this  holy  heavenly  madness — a  favour 
which  Thou  grantest  me  through  no  merits  of  my  own — either 
those  with  whom  I  shall  have  to  do  may  also  become  mad 
through  Thy  love  or  I  myself  may  have  no  part  in  anything 
to  do  with  the  world  or  may  be  taken  from  it.  This  servant  of 
Thine,  my  God,  can  no  longer  endure  such  trials  as  come  when 
she  finds  herself  without  Thee;  for,  if  she  is  to  live,  she  desires 
no  repose  in  this  life  nor  would  she  have  Thee  give  her  any. 
This  soul  would  fain  see  itself  free:  eating  is  killing  it;  sleep 
brings  it  anguish.  It  finds  itself  in  this  life  spending  its  time 
upon  comforts,  yet  nothing  can  comfort  it  but  Thee:  it  seems 
to  be  living  against  nature,  for  it  no  longer  desires  to  live  to 
itself,  but  only  to  Thee. 

O  my  true  Lord  and  Glory,  what  a  cross — light  and  yet  most 
heavy — hast  Thou  prepared  for  those  who  attain  to  this  state! 
Light,  because  it  is  sweet;  heavy,  because  there  come  times 
when  there  is  no  patience  that  can  endure  it:  never  would  the 
soul  desire  to  be  free  from  it  save  to  find  itself  with  Thee.  When 
it  remembers  that  as  yet  it  has  rendered  Thee  no  service  and 
that  by  living2  it  can  still  serve  Thee,  it  would  gladly  take  up 

a  much  heavier  cross  and  never  die  until  the  end  of  the  world. 

^ 

1  The  "person",  as  so  often  in  St.  Teresa,  was  the  author  herself.  [The  description 
of  the  poem  is  too  vague  for  it  to  be  identified.] 

2  [Lit.:  "  oy  seeing"  (tntndo),  which  reading  P.  Silverio  adopts;  but  I  think  we  may 
assume  this  to  be  an  error  for  "by  living"  (vimendo)*] 


XVI]  ,  LIFE  99 

It  sets  no  store  by  its  own  repose  if  by  forfeiting  this  it  can  do 
Thee  a  small  service.  It  knows  not  what  to  desire,  but  it  well 
knows  that  it  desires  nothing  else  but  Thee. 

0  my  son !   (He  to  whom  this  is  addressed  and  who  commands 
me  to  write  it  is  so  humble  that  he  desires  to  be  addressed  thus).1 
May  Your  Reverence  alone  see  some  of  these  things  in  which 
I  am  transgressing  my  proper  limits!    For  there  is  no  reason 
strong  enough  to  keep  me  within  the  bounds  of  reason  when, 
the  Lord  takes  me  out  of  myself.    And  since  I  communicated 
this  morning  I  cannot  believe  that  it  is  I  who   am  speaking 
at  all:  I  seem  to  be  dreaming  what  I  see  and  I  wish  all  the 
people  I  see  were  suffering  from  the  same  complaint  that  I 
have  now.    I  beseech  Your  Reverence,  let  us  all  be  mad,  for 
the  love  of  Him  Who  was  called  mad  for  our  sakes.    Your 
Reverence  says  that  you  are  attached  to  me:  I  want  you  to 
show  it  by  preparing  yourself  for  God  to  grant  you  this  favour, 
for  I  see  very  few  people  who  are  not  too  worldly-wise  to  do 
what  is  incumbent  upon  them.    I  may  of  course  be  more  so 
than  anybody  else:  Your  Reverence  must  not  allow  me  to  be. 
You  are  my  confessor,  my  father2,  and  it  is  to  you  that  I  have 
entrusted  my  soul :  undeceive  me,  then,  by  telling  me  the  truth, 
for  such  truths  as  these  are  very  seldom  told. 

1  wish  we  five,3  who  now  love  each  other  in  Christ,  could 
make  an  agreement  together.    Just  as  others  in  recent  times 
have  been  meeting  secretly  to  contrive  evil  deeds  and  heresies 
against  His  Majesty,4  so  we  might  try  to  meet  sometimes  to 
undeceive  one  another  and  to  advise  one  another  as  to  ways 
in  which  we  might  amend  our  lives  and  be  more  pleasing  to 
God;  for  there  is  no  one  who  knows  himself  as  well  as  he  is 
known  by  those  who  see  him  if  they  observe  him  lovingly  and 
are  anxious  to  help  him.    I  say  "secretly",  because  it  is  no 
longer  the  fashion  to  talk  in  this  way:  even  preachers  nowadays 
phrase  their  sermons  so  as  not  to  give  offence.5  No  doubt  their 

1  The  reference  is  to  P.  Pedro  Ibariez.  The  parenthetical  sentence  [which  I  have 
bracketed  in  the  text]  is  scored  through  in  the  autograph,  by  some  hand  other  than 
the  Saint's — probably  by  P.  Banez. 

a  After  this  word  come  three  or  four  others,  which  have  been  so  effectively  scored 
through  that  they  are  indecipherable.  No  doubt  they  were  words  eulogizing  P. 
Ibdnez. 

8  Probably  the  other  four  were  P.  Daza,  Don  Francisco  de  Salcedo,  Dona  Guiomar 
de  Ulloa  and  P.  Ibanez. 

4  The  reference  is  to  clandestine  meetings  held  at  Valladolid  by  a  group  of  people 
suspected  of  heresy,  under  the  leadership  of  Dr.  Agustin  Gazalla,  a  Canon  of  Sala- 
manca and  a  Chaplain  to  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  These  meetings  came  to  an  end  in 
1559,  when  an  auto  was  held  which  involved  persons  of  high  rank  and  caused  a  great 
sensation  in  the  country.  The  unorthodox  propaganda  of  the  Cazallist  group  spread 
as  far  as  Avila  and  St.  Teresa  had  herself  come  into  contact  with  it. 

fr  P.  Banez  wrote  in  the  margin  of  the  autograph  here:  "Legant  praedicatores," 


ioo  LIFE  [CHAP. 

intention  is  good,  and  the  work  they  do  is  good  too,  but  they 
lead  few  people  to  amend  their  lives.  How  is  it  that  there  are 
not  many  who  are  led  by  sermons  to  forsake  open  sin?  Do  you 
know  what  I  think?  That  it  is  because  preachers  have  too 
much  worldly  wisdom.  They  are  not  like  the  Apostles,  flinging 
it  all  aside  and  catching  fire  with  love  for  God;  and  so  their 
flame  gives  little  heat:  I  do  not  say  that  their  flame  is  as  great 
as  the  Apostles'  was,  but  I  could  wish  it  were  stronger  than  I 
see  it  is.  Does  Your  Reverence  know  what  our  great  care  ought 
to  be?  To  hold  our  life  in  abhorrence  and  to  consider  our 
reputation  as  quite  unimportant.  Provided  we  say  what  is  true 
and  maintain  it  to  the  glory  of  God,  we  ought  to  be  indifferent 
whether  we  lose  everything  or  gain  everything.  For  he  who 
in  all  things  is  truly  bold  in  God's  service  will  be  as  ready  to 
do  the  one  as  the  other.  I  do  not  say  I  am  that  kind  of  person, 
but  I  wish  I  were. 

Oh,  what  great  freedom  we  enjoy!  It  makes  us  look  upon 
haying  to  live  and  act  according  to  the  laws  of  the  world  as 
captivity!  It  is  a  freedom  which  we  obtain  from  the  Lord; 
and  there  is  not  a  slave  who  would  not  risk  everything  in  order 
to  get  his  ransom  and  return  to  his  native  country.  And  as 
this  is  the  true  road,  there  is  no  reason  for  lingering  on  it,  for 
we  shall  never  gain  complete  possession  of  that  great  treasure 
until  our  life  is  over.  May  the  Lord  give  us  His  help  to  this 
end.  Your  Reverence  must  tear  up  what  I  have  written  if  it 
seems  good  to  you  to  do  so;  in  that  case  consider  it  as  a  letter 
addressed  to  yourself  and  forgive  me  for  having  been  so  bold. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Continues  the  same  subject,  the  exposition  of  this  third  degree  of  prayer. 
Concludes  her  exposition  of  the  ejfects  produced  by  it.  Describes 
the  hindrances  caused  in  this  state  by  the  imagination  and  the 
memory. 

A  reasonable  amount  has  been  said  concerning  this  mode  of 
prayer  and  of  what  the  soul  must  now  do— or,  more  correctly, 
of  what  God  does  within  it,  for  it  is  He  Who  now  undertakes 
the  work  of  the  gardener  and  is  pleased  that  the  soul  should  be 
idle*  The  will  has  only  to  consent  to  those  favours  which  it  is 
enjoying  and  to  submit  to  all  that  true  Wisdom  may  be  pleased 
to  accomplish  in  it.  And  for  this  it  needs  courage,  that  is  cer- 
tain; for  the  joy  is  so  great  that  sometimes  the  soul  seems  to  be 


XVII]  LIFE  101 

on  the  point  of  leaving  the  body — and  what  a  happy  death 
that  would  be! 

In  this  state  I  think  it  is  well,  as  Your  Reverence  has  been 

told,  for  the  soul  to  abandon  itself  wholly  into  the  arms  of  God. 

If  He  is  pleased  to  take  it  to  Heaven,  let  it  go;  if  to  hell,  it  is 

not  distressed,  so  long  as  it  is  going  there  with  its  Good.  If  its  life 

is  to  come  to  an  end  for  ever,  that  is  its  desire;  if  it  is  to  live  a 

thousand  years,  that  is  its  desire  also.  Let  His  Majesty  treat  it  as 

His  own :  it  no  longer  belongs  to  itself;  it  is  given  wholly  to  the 

Lord;  it  can  cease  to  worry  altogether.  When  God  grants  the 

soul  prayer  as  sublime  as  that  which  belongs  to  this  state,  He 

can  do  all  this  and  much  more,  for  that  is  the  effect  it  produces. 

The  soul  realizes  that  He  is  doing  this  without  any  fatiguing  of  its 

understanding;  only  I  think  it  is,  as  it  were,  astonished  to  see 

what  a  good  gardener  the  Lord  is  making,  and  to  find  that  He 

does  not  desire  the  soul  to  undertake  any  labour,  but  only  to  take 

its  delight  in  the  first  fragrance  of  the  flowers.    In  any  one  of  these 

visits,  brief  as  its  duration  may  be,  the  Gardener,  being,  as 

He  is,  the  Creator  of  the  water,  gives  the  soul  water  without 

limit;  and  what  the  poor  soul  could  not  acquire,   even  if  it 

laboured  and  fatigued  its  understanding  for  as  much  as  twenty 

years,  this  heavenly  Gardener  achieves  in  a  moment;  the  fruit 

grows  and  ripens  in  such  a  way  that,  if  the  Lord  wills,  the  soul 

can  obtain  sufficient  nourishment  from  its  own  garden.    But 

He  allows  it  to  share  the  fruit  with  others  only  when  it  has  eaten 

so  much  of  it  that  it  is  strong  enough  not  to  consume  it  all  by 

merely  nibbling  at  it,1  and  not  to  fail  to  get  profit  from  it,  nor 

to  omit  to  recompense  Him  Who  has  bestowed  it,  but  to  maintain 

others  and  give  them  food  at  its  own  cost  while  itself  perhaps 

dying  of  hunger.    This  will  be  understood  perfectly  by  persons 

of  intelligence  and  they  will  be  able  to  apply  it  more  effectively 

than  I  can  describe  it,  for  I  am  growing  tired. 

The  virtues,  then,  are  now  stronger  than  they  were  previously, 
in  the  Prayer  of  Quiet,  for  the  soul  sees  that  it  is  other  than  it 
was,  and  does  not  realize  how  it  is  beginning  to  do  great  things 
with  the  fragrance  that  is  being  given  forth  by  the  flowers.  It 
is  the  Lord's  will  that  these  shall  open  so  that  the  soul  may  see 
that  it  possesses  virtues,  though  it  also  knows  very  well  that  it 
could  not  itself  acquire  them,  and  has  in  fact  been  unable  to 

1  \Tanjuerte  ,  .  .  que  no  se  le  vaya  en  gostaduras.  A  difficult  phrase,  which  used  to  be 
interpreted  by  g«pT»fag  gasia£xra^  a  presumedly  archaic  substantive  from  gaster 
(spend,  waste,  fail  to  profit  from),  for  gostadurat  of  which  the  modern  form  is  gustedttra, 
and  which  denotes  the  action  of  tasting.  But  I  greatly  prefer  gostadura^  and,  though 
the  figure  could  not  be  pressed  to  its  logical  conclusion,  the  translation  I  suggest 
seems  wholly  in  accord  with  St,  Teresa's  realistic  way  of  looking  at  things,  whereas 
the  eastadura  reading  ("strong  enough  not  to  fritter  it  all  away",  "...  not  to  waste 
it  all")  is  by  comparison  conventional.] 


102  LIFE  [CHAP. 

do  so  even  after  many  years,  whereas  in  this  short  space  of 
time  they  have  been  given  to  it  by  the  heavenly  Gardener. 
The  humility,  too,  which  remains  in  the  soul  is  much  greater 
and  deeper  than  it  was  previously,  for  it  sees  more  clearly  that 
it  has  done  nothing  at  all  of  itself  save  to  consent  that  the  Lord 
shall  grant  it  favours  and  to  receive  them  with  its  will. 

This  kind  of  prayer,  I  think,  is  quite  definitely  a  union  of  the 
entire  soul  with  God,  except  that  His  Majesty  appears  to  be 
willing  to  give  the  faculties  leave  to  understand,  and  have 
fruition  of,  the  great  things  that  He  is  now  doing.  It  happens 
at  certain  seasons,  very  often  indeed  (I  say  this  now  so  that 
Your  Reverence  may  know  that  it  can  happen  and  recognize 
it  when  it  happens  to  you:  I  myself  was  quite  distracted  by  it), 
that,  when  the  will  is  in  union,  the  soul  realizes  that  the  will 
is  captive  and  rejoicing,  and  that  it  alone  is  experiencing  great 
quiet,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  understanding  and  the 
memory  are  so  free  that  they  can  attend  to  business  and  do 
works  of  charity.  This  may  seem  to  be  just  the  same  as  the 
Prayer  of  Quiet  of  which  I  spoke,  but  it  is  really  different — 
partly  because  in  that  prayer  the  soul  would  fain  neither  stir 
nor  move  and  is  rejoicing  in  that  holy  repose  which  belongs  to 
Mary,  while  in  this  prayer  it  can  also  be  a  Martha.  Thus  the 
soul  is,  as  it  were,  occupied  in  the  active  and  in  the  contemplative 
life  at  one  and  the  same  time :  it  is  doing  works  of  charity  and 
also  the  business  pertaining  to  its  mode  of  life,  as  well  as  busying 
itself  with  reading.  Those  in  this  state,  however,  are  not  wholly 
masters  of  themselves  and  they  know  very  well  that  the  better 
part  of  the  soul  is  elsewhere.  It  is  as  if  we  were  speaking  to  one 
person  while  someone  else  was  speaking  to  us:  we  cannot  be 
wholly  absorbed  in  either  the  one  conversation  or  the  other. 

This  is  a  thing  which  can  be  very  clearly  apprehended,  and 
which,  when  experienced,  gives  great  satisfaction  and  pleasure; 
it  is  also  a  most  effective  preparation  for  attainment  to  a  very 
restful  state  of  quiet,  since  it  gives  the  soul  a  period  of  solitude  or 
freedom  from  its  business.  It  works  in  this  way.  A  person  may 
have  so  far  satisfied  his  appetite  that  he  has  no  need  to  eat;  Ee 
feels  quite  well  fed  and  would  not  look  at  ordinary  food;  yet  he 
is  not  so  replete  that,  if  he  sees  something  nice,  he  will  not  be 
glad  to  eat  some  of  it.  Just  so  here :  the  soul  in  this  state  is  not 
satisfied  by  the  pleasures  of  the  world  and  has  no  desire  for  them 
because  it  has  within  it  that  which  satisfies  it  more:  greater  joys 
in  God  and  desires  to  satisfy  its  desire,  to  have  greater  fruition 
and  to  be  with  Him — that  is  what  the  soul  $eeks. 

There  is  another  kind  of  union,  which,  though  not  complete 
union,  is  more  nearly  so  than  the  one  which  I  have  just  described. 


XVII]  LIFE  103 

but  not  so  much,  so  as  the  one  which  has  been  referred  to  in  speak- 
ing of  this  third  water.    Your  Reverence  will  be  very  glad,  if 
the  Lord  grants  them  all  to  you  (assuming  that  you  do  not  possess 
them  already),  to  have  a  written  description  of  them  and  thus 
to  be  able  to  understand  their  nature.   For  it  is  one  favour  that 
the  Lord  should  grant  this  favour;  but  quite  another  to  understand 
what  favour  and  what  grace  it  is;  and  still  another  to  be  able 
to  describe  and  explain  it.   And  although  only  the  first  of  these 
favours  seems  necessary  for  the  soul  to  be  able  to  proceed  without 
confusion  and  fear  and  to  walk  in  the  way  of  the  Lord  with  the 
greater  courage,  trampling  underfoot  all  the  things  of  the  world, 
it  is  a  great  benefit  and  favour  to  understand  it,  and  it  is  right  that 
everyone  who  can  do  so,  as  well  as  everyone  who  cannot,  should 
praise  the  Lord  because  His  Majesty  has  granted  it  to  a  few 
people  who  are  alive  so  that  we  may  reap  advantage  from  it. 
Now  frequently  this  kind  of  union  which  I  wish  to  describe  comes 
about  as  follows  (and  this  is  specially  true  of  myself,  for  God  very 
often  grants  me  this  favour  in  this  way).  God  constrains  the  will, 
and  also,  I  think,  the  understanding,  as  it  does  not  reason  but 
occupies  itself  in  the  fruition  of  God,  like  one  who,  as  he  looks, 
sees  so  much  that  he  does  not  know  where  to  look  next:  as  he 
sees  one  thing  he  loses  sight  of  another  so  that  he  can  give  no 
description  of  anything.  The  memory  remains  free — both  it  and 
the  imagination  must  be  so — and  when  they  find  themselves 
alone  one  would  never  believe  what  a  turmoil  they  make  and 
how  they  try  to  upset  everything.   Personally,  I  get  fatigued  by 
it  and  I  hate  it,  and  often  I  beseech  the  Lord,  if  He  must  upset  me 
so  much,  to  let  me  be  free  from  it  at  times  like  these.  "My  God," 
I  say  to  Him  sometimes,  "when  shall  my  soul  be  wholly  employed 
in  Thy  praise,  instead  of  being  torn  to  pieces  in  this  way,  and 
quite  helpless?"    This  makes ^me  realize  what  harm  is  done  to 
us  by  sin,  which  has  bound  us  in  this  way  so  that  we  cannot  do 
as  we  would — namely,  be  always  occupied  in  God. 

As  I  say,  it  happens  at  times — to-day  has  been  one  of  them, 
so  I  have  it  clearly  in  mind — that  I  find  my  soul  is  becoming 
unwrought,  because  it  wants  to  be  wholly  where  the  greater  part 
of  it  is,  yet  it  knows  this  to  be  impossible.  Memory  and  imagina- 
tion make  such  turmoil  within  it  that  they  leave  it  helpless; 
and  the  other  faculties,  not  being  free,  are  unable  to  do  anything, 
even  harm.  They  do  the  soul  extreme  harm,  of  course,  by  dis- 
turbing it;  but,  when  I  say  "unable  to  do  harm",  I  mean  that 
they  have  no  strength  and  cannot  concentrate.  The  under- 
standing gives  the  soul  no  help  whatever  by  what  it  presents  to 
the  imagination;  it  rests  nowhere,  but  goes  from  one  thing  to 
another,  like  nothing  so  much  as  those  restless,  importunate 


[04  LIFE  [CHAP. 

ittle  moths  that  fly  by  night:  just  so  the  understanding  flies  from 
me  extreme  to  another.  This  comparison,  I  think,  is  extremely 
ipt;  for  though  the  understanding  has  not  the  strength  to  do  any 
larm,  it  importunes  those  who  observe  it.  I  do  not  know  what 
-emedy  there  is  for  this,  for  so  far  God  has  not  revealed  one  to  me. 
[f  He  had,  I  would  very  willingly  make  use  of  it,  for,  as  I  say,  I 
am  often  tormented  in  this  way.  Here  we  have  a  picture  of  our 
Dwn  wretchedness  and  a  very  clear  one  of  God's  great  power; 
the  faculty  which  remains  free  causes  us  all  this  fatigue  and  harm, 
whereas  the  others,  which  are  with  His  Majesty,  bring  us  rest. 

The  remedy  which  I  finally  discovered,  after  having  caused 
myself  much  fatigue  for  many  years,  is  the  one  I  spoke  of  when 
describing  the  Prayer  of  Quiet:  the  soul  must  take  no  more  notice 
of  the  will  than  it  would  of  a  madman,  but  leave  it  to  its  work, 
for  God  alone  can  set  it  free.  In  this  state,  in  short,  it  is  a  slave. 
We  must  bear  patiently  with  it  as  Jacob  bore  with  Lia,  for  the 
Lord  is  showing  us  an  exceeding  great  mercy  if  He  allows  us  to 
enjoy  Rachel.  I  say  that  it  is  a  slave  because,  after  all,  however 
much  it  may  try,  it  cannot  attract  to  itself  the  other  faculties ; 
on  the  contrary,  they  often  compel  it  to  come  to  them  and  it 
does  so  without  the  smallest  effort.  Sometimes,  seeing  it  so  con- 
fused and  restless  because  of  its  desire  to  be  with  the  other 
faculties,  God  is  pleased  to  have  pity  on  it,  and  His  Majesty  allows 
it  to  burn  in  the  fire  of  that  Divine  candle,  which  Has  already 
deprived  the  others  of  their  natural  form  and  reduced  them  to 
ashes :  so  great  are  the  blessings  they  are  enjoying  that  they  have 
become  almost  supernatural. 

In  all  these  types  of  prayer  which  I  have  described  in  speaking 
of  this  last-mentioned  kind  of  water,  which  comes  from  a  spring, 
the  glory  and  the  repose  of  the  soul  are  so  great  that  the  body 
shares  in  the  soul's  joy  and  delight,  and  this  to  a  most  marked  extent, 
and  the  virtues  are  very  highly  developed  in  it,  as  I  have  said. 
It  seems  that  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  describe  these  states 
in  which  the  soul  finds  itself,  and  to  do  so  as  clearly,  I  believe, 
as  in  this  life  is  possible.  Your  Reverence  should  discuss  the 
matter  with  some  spiritual  person,  who  has  himself  reached  this 
state  and  is  a  man  of  learning.  If  he  tells  you  that  it  is  all  right, 
you  may  take  his  assurance  as  coming  from  God  and  be  grateful 
for  it  to  His  Majesty.  For,  in  due  time,  as  I  have  said,  you  will 
rejoice  greatly  at  having  understood  the  nature  of  this,  until 
He  gives  you  grace  to  understand  it  fully,  just  as  He  is  giving  you 
grace  to  enjoy  it.  As  His  Majesty  has  granted  you  the  first  grace, 
you,  with  all  your  intellect  and  learning,  will  come  to  understand 
it  as  well.  May  He  be  praised  for  all  things,  for  ever  and  ever. 
Amen. 


XVIII]  LIFE  105 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Treats  of  the  fourth  degree  of  prayer.  Begins  to  describe  in  an  excellent 
way*-  the  great  dignity  conferred  by  the  Lord  upon  the  soul  in  this 
state.  This  chapter  is  meant  for  the  great  encouragement  of  those  who 
practise  prayer  to  the  end  that  thy  may  strive  to  reach  this  lofty  state, 
which  it  is  possible  to  attain  on  earth,  though  not  through  our  merits 
but  by  the  Lord's  goodness.  Let  it  be  read  with  attention,  for  its 
exposition  is  most  subtle  and  it  contains  most  noteworthy  things.* 

May  the  Lord  teach  me  words  in  which  to  say  something  about 
the  fourth  water.  His  help  is  very  necessary,  even  more  so  than 
it  was  for  describing  the  last  water,  for  in  that  state  the  soul  still 
feels  that  it  is  not  completely  dead — and  we  may  use  this  word 
in  speaking  of  it,  since  it  is  dead  to  the  world.  As  I  said,  it  retains 
sufficient  sense  to  realize  that  it  is  in  the  world  and  to  be  conscious 
of  its  loneliness,  and  it  makes  use  of  exterior  things  for  the  expres- 
sion of  its  feelings,  even  if  this  is  only  possible  by  signs.  In  the 
whple  of  the  prayer  already  described,  and  in  each  of  its  stages, 
the  gardener  is  responsible  for  part  of  the  labour;  although 
in  these  later  stages  the  labour  is  accompanied  by  such  bliss  and 
consolation  that  the  soul's  desire  would  be  never  to  abandon  it: 
the  labour  is  felt  to  be,  not  labour  at  all,  but  bliss.  In  this  state 
of  prayer  .to  which  we  have  now  come,  there  is  no  feeling,  but  only 
rejoicing,  unaccompanied  by  any  understanding  of  the  thing 
in  which  the  soul  is  rejoicing.  It  realizes  that  it  is  rejoicing  in 
some  good  thing,  in  which  are  comprised  all  good  things  at  once, 
but  it  cannot  comprehend  this  good  thing.  In  this  rejoicing  all 
the  senses  are  occupied,  so  that  none  of  them  is  free  or  able  to 
act  in  any  way,  either  outwardly  or  inwardly.  Previously,  as  I 
have  said,  they  were  permitted  to  give  some  indication  of  the  great 
joy  that  they  feel;  but  in  this  state  the  soul's  rejoicing  is  beyond 
comparison  greater,  and  yet  can  be  much  less  effectively  expressed, 
because  there  is  no  power  left  in  the  body,  neither  has  the  soul 
any  power,  to  communicate  its  rejoicing.  At  such  a  time  every- 
thing would  be  a  great  hindrance  and  torment  to  it  and  a  dis- 
turbance of  its  rest;  so  I  assert  that,  if  there  is  union  of  all  the 
faculties,  the  soul  cannot  communicate  the  fact,  even  if  it  so 
desires  (when  actually  experiencing  it,  I  mean) :  if  it  can  communi- 
cate it,  then  it  is  not  union. 

1  These  four  words  were  crossed  out  in  the  manuscript  by  the  author. 
*  This  sentence  was  also  crossed  out  by  the  author. 


io6  LIFE  [CHAP. 

The  way  in  which  this  that  we  call  union  comes,  and  the  nature 
of  it,  I  do  not  know  how  to  explain.  It  is  described  in  mystical 
theology,  but  I  am  unable  to  use  the  proper  terms,  and  I  cannot 
understand  what  is  meant  by  "mind"  or  how  this  differs  from 
"soul"  or  "spirit".  They  all  seem  the  same  to  me,  though  the 
soul  sometimes  issues  from  itself,  like  a  fire  that  is  burning  and 
has  become  wholly  flame,  and  sometimes  this  fire  increases  with 
great  force.  This  flame  rises  very  high  above  the  fire,  but  that 
does  not  make  it  a  different  thing:  it  is  the  same  flame  which 
is  in  the  fire.  This,  with  all  your  learning,  Your  Reverences  will 
understand :  there  is  nothing  more  that  I  can  say  of  it. 

What  I  do  seek  to  explain  is  the  feelings  of  the  soul  when  it  is 
in  this  Divine  union.  It  is  quite  clear  what  union  is — two  different 
things  becoming  one.  O  my  Lord,  how  good  Thou  art !  Blessed 
be  Thou  for  ever!  Let  all  things  praise  Thee,  my  God,  Who 
hast  so  loved  us  that  we  can  truly  say  that  Thou  hast  communica- 
tion with  souls  even  in  this  exile :  even  if  they  are  good,  this  is 
great  bounty  and  magnanimity.  In  a  word,  my  Lord,  it  is  a 
bounty  and  a  magnanimity  which  are  all  Thine  own,  for  Thou 
givest  according  to  Thine  own  nature.  O  infinite  Bounty,  how 
magnificent  are  Thy  works!  Even  one  whose  understanding 
is  not  occupied  with  things  of  the  earth  is  amazed  at  being 
unable  to  understand  such  truths.  Dost  Thou,  then,  grant  these 
sovereign  favours  to  souls  who  have  so  greatly  offended  Thee? 
Truly  my  own  understanding  is  overwhelmed  by  this,  and  when  I 
begin  to  think  about  it  I  can  make  no  progress.  What  progress, 
indeed,  is  there  to  be  made  which  is  not  a  turning  back?  As  for 
giving  Thee  thanks  for  such  great  favours,  there  is  no  way  of 
doing  it,  though  sometimes  I  find  it  a  help  to  utter  foolishness. 

When  I  have  just  received  these  mercies,  or  when  God  is 
beginning  to  bestow  them  on  me  (for  while  actually  receiving 
them,  as  I  have  said,  a  person  has  no  power  to  do  anything), 
I  am  often  wont  to  exclaim:  "Lord,  consider  what  Thou  art 
doing;  forget  not  so  quickly  the  gravity  of  my  evil  deeds.  Though 
Thou  must  have  forgotten  them  before  Thou  couldst  forgive  me, 
I  beseech  Thee  to  remember  them  in  order  that  Thou  mayest 
set  a  limit  to  Thy  favours.  O  my  Creator,  pour  not  such  precious 
liquor  into  so  broken  a  vessel,  for  again  and  again  Thou  hast 
seen  how  I  have  allowed  it  to  run  away.  Put  not  such  a  treasure 
in  a  place  where  the  yearning  for  the  comforts  of  this  life  has  not 
yet  disappeared  as  it  should,  or  it  will  be  completely  wasted.  How 
canst  Thou  entrust  this  fortified  city  and  the  keys  of  its  citadel 
to  so  cowardly  a  defender,  who  at  the  enemy's  first  onslaught 
allows  him  to  enter?  Let  not  Thy  love,  eternal  King,  be  so  great 
as  to  imperil  such  precious  jewels.  For  it  seems,  my  Lord,  that 


XVIII]  LIFE  107 

men  have  an  excuse  for  despising  them  if  Thou  bestowest  them 
upon  a  creature  so  wretched,  so  base,  so  weak,  so  miserable  and 
so  worthless,  who,  though  she  may  strive  not  to  lose  them,  by 
Thy  help  (of  which  I  have  no  small  need,  being  what  I  am), 
cannot  make  use  of  them  to  bring  profit  to  any.  I  am,  in  short,  a 
woman,  and  not  even  a  good  one,  but  wicked. 

"When  talents  are  placed  in  earth  as  vile  as  this  they  seem  to 
be  not  only  hidden  but  buried.  It  is  not  Thy  wont,  Lord,  to  do 
such  great  things  for  a  soul  and  to  bestow  such  favours  upon  it 
save  that  it  may  profit  many  others.  Thou  knowest,  my  God, 
that  I  beseech  this  of  Thee  with  all  my  heart  and  will,  and  that  I 
have  oftentimes  besought  it  of  Thee,  and  that  I  count  it  a  blessing 
to  lose  the  greatest  blessing  which  may  be  possessed  upon  earth, 
if  Thou  wilt  bestow  thy  favours  upon  one  who  will  derive  greater 
profit  from  this  blessing,  to  the  increase  of  Thy  glory."  It  has 
come  to  pass  many  times  that  I  have  said  these  things  and  others 
like  them.  And  afterwards  I  have  become  conscious  of  my 
foolishness  and  want  of  humility;  for  the  Lord  well  knows  what 
is  fitting  for  me  and  that  my  soul  would  have  no  power  to 
attain  salvation  did  not  His  Majesty  bestow  it  on  me  with 
these  great  favours. 

I  propose  also  to  speak  of  the  graces  and  effects  which  remain 
in  the  soul,  and  of  what  it  can  do  by  itself,  if  it  can  do  anything, 
towards  reaching  a  state  of  such  sublimity. 

This  elevation  of  the  spirit,  or  union,  is  wont  to  come  with 
heavenly  love;  but,  as  I  understand  it,  the  union  itself  is  a 
different  thing  from  the  elevation  which  takes  place  in  this  same 
union.  Anyone  who  has  not  had  experience  of  the  latter  will 
think  it  is  not  so;  but  my  own  view  is  that,  even  though  they 
may  both  be  the  same,  the  Lord  works  differently  in  them, 
so  that  the  soul's  growth  in  detachment  from  creatures  is 
much  greater  in  the  flight  of  the  spirit.  It  has  become  quite  clear 
to  me  that  this  is  a  special  grace,  though,  as  I  say,  both  may  be, 
or  may  appear  to  be,  the  same;  a  small  fire  is  as  much  fire  as 
is  a  large  one  and  yet  the  difference  between  the  two  is  evident. 
In  a  small  fire,  a  long  time  elapses  before  a  small  piece  of  iron 
can  become  red-hot;  but  if  the  fire  be  a  large  one,  the  piece  of 
iron,  though  it  may  also  be  larger,  seems  to  lose,  all  its  properties 
very  quickly.  So  it  is,  I  think;  with  these  two  kinds  of  favour 
from  the  Lord.  Anyone  who  has  attained  to  raptures  will,  I 
know,  understand  it  well*  If  he  has  not  experienced  it,  it  will 
seem  ridiculous  to  him,  as  well  it  may  be :  for  a  person  like  myself 
to  speaj:  of  such  a  thing  and  to  make  any  attempt  to  explain 
a  matter  which  cannot  even  begin  to  be  described  in  words  may 
very  well  be  ridiculous. 


io8  LIFE  [CHAP. 

But  I  believe  that  the  Lord  will  help  me  in  this,  since  His 
Majesty  knows  that,  next  to  doing  what  I  am  bidden,  my  chief 
aim  is  to  cause  souls  to  covet  so  sublime  a  blessing.  I  shall  say 
nothing  of  which  I  have  not  myself  had  abundant  experience. 
The  fact  is,  when  I  began  to  write  about  this  fourth  water,  it 
seemed  to  me  more  impossible  to  say  anything  about  it  than  to 
talk  Greek — and  indeed  it  is  a  most  difficult  matter.  So  I  laid  it 
aside  and  went  to  Communion.  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  Who  thus 
helps  the  ignorant!  O  virtue  of  obedience,  that  canst  do  all 
things!  God  enlightened  my  understanding,  sometimes  giving 
me  words  and  sometimes  showing  me  how  I  was  to  use  them, 
for,  as  in  dealing  with  the  last  kind  of  prayer,  His  Majesty  seems 
to  be  pleased  to  say  what  I  have  neither  the  power  nor  the  learn- 
ing to  express.  What  I  am  saying  is  the  whole  truth;  and  thus, 
if  I  say  anything  good,  the  teaching  comes  from  Him,  while 
what  is  bad,  of  course,  comes  from  that  se^  of  evil — myself. 
And  so  I  say,  if  there  are  any  persons  (and  there  must  be  many) 
who  have  attained  to  the  experiences  in  prayer  which  the  Lord 
has  granted  to  this  miserable  woman,  and  who  think  that  they 
have  strayed  from  the  path  and  wish  to  discuss  these  matters 
with  me,  the  Lord  will  help  His  servant  to  present  His  truth. 

Speaking  now  of  this  rain  which  comes  from  Heaven  to  fill 
and  saturate  the  whole  of  this  garden  with  an  abundance  of 
water,  we  can  see  how  much  rest  the  gardener  would  be  able  to 
have  if  the  Lord  never  ceased  to  send  it  whenever  it  was  necessary. 
And  if  there  were  no  winter,  but  eternal  warm  weather,  there 
would  never  be  a  dearth  of  flowers  and  fruit  and  we  can  imagine 
how  delighted  he  would  be.  But  during  this  life,  that  is  impossible, 
and,  when  one  kind  of  water  fails,  we  must  always  be  thinking 
about  obtaining  another.  This  rain  from  Heaven  often  comes 
when  the  gardener  is  least  expecting  it.  Yet  it  is  true  that  at  first 
it  almost  always  comes  after  long  mental  prayer:  as  one  degree 
of  prayer  succeeds  another,  the  Lord  takes  this  little  bird  and  puts 
it  into  the  nest  where  it  may  repose.  Having  watched  it  flying 
for  a  long  time,  staving  with  mind  and  will  and  all  its  strength 
to  seek  and  please  God,  it  becomes  His  pleasure,  while  it  is  still 
in  this  life,  to  give  it  its  reward.  And  what  a  great  reward  that  is ! 
For  even  a  moment  of  it  suffices  to  recompense  the  soul  for  all 
the  trials  that  it  can  possibly  have  endured. 

While  seeking  God  in  this  way,  the  soul  becomes  conscious  that 
it  is  fainting  almost  completely  away,  in  a  kind  of  swoon,  with  an 
exceeding  great  and  sweet  delight.  It  gradually  ceases  to  breathe 
and  all  its  bodily  strength  begins  to  fail  it:  it  cannot  even  move 
its  hands  without  great  pain;  its  eyes  involuntarily  close,  or,  if 
they  remain  open,  they  can  hardly  see.  If  a  person  in  this  state 


XVIII]  LIFE  109 

attempts  to  read,  he  is  unable  to  spell  out  a  single  letter:  it  is  as 
much  as  he  can  do  to  recognize  one.  He  sees  that  letters  are  there, 
but,  as  the  understanding  gives  him  no  help,  he  cannot  read  them 
even  if  he  so  wishes.  He  can  hear,  but  he  cannot  understand  what 
he  hears.  He  can  apprehend  nothing  with  the  senses,  which  only 
hinder  his  soul's  joy  and  thus  harm  rather  than  help  him.  It  is 
futile  for  him  to  attempt  to  speak:  his  mind  cannot  manage  to 
form  a  single  word,  nor,  if  it  could,  would  he  have  the  strength 
to  pronounce  it.  For  in  this  condition  all  outward  strength 
vanishes,  while  the  strength  of  the  soul  increases  so  that  it  may  the 
better  have  fruition  of  its  bliss.  The  outward  joy  experienced 
is  great  and  most  clearly  recognized. 

This  prayer,  for  however  long  it  may  last,  does  no  harm; 
at  least,  it  has  never  done  any  to  me,  nor  do  I  ever  remember 
feeling  any  ill  effects  after  the  Lord  has  granted  me  this  favour, 
however  unwell  I  may  have  been:  indeed,  I  am  generally  much 
the  better  for  it.  What  harm  can  possibly  be  done  by  so  great  a 
blessing?  The  outward  effects  are. so  noteworthy  that  there  can 
be  no  doubt  some  great  thing  has  taken  place:  we  experience 
a  loss  of  strength  but  the  experience  'is  one  of  such  delight  that 
afterwards  our  strength  grows  greater. 

It  is  true  that  at  first  this  happens  in  such  a  short  space  of  time — 
so,  at  least,  it  was  with  me — that  because  of  its  rapidity  it  can  be 
detected  neither  by  these  outward  signs  nor  by  the  failure  of  the 
senses.  But  the  exceeding  abundance  of  the  favours  granted  to 
the  soul  clearly  indicates  how  bright  has  been  the  sun  that  has 
shone  upon  it  and  has  thus  caused  the  soul  to  melt  away.  And 
let  it  be  observed  that,  in  my  opinion,  whatever  may  be  the  length 
of  the  period  during  which  all  the  faculties  of  the  soul  are  in  this 
state  of  suspension,  it  is  a  very  short  one:  if  it  were  to  last  for  half 
an  hour,  that  would  be  a  long  time — I  do  not  think  it  has  ever 
lasted  so  long  as  that  with  me.  As  the  soul  is  not  conscious  of  it, 
its  duration  is  really  very  difficult  to  estimate,  so  I  will  merely 
say  that  it  is  never  very  long  before  one  of  the  faculties  becomes 
active  again.  It  is  the  will  that  maintains  the  contact  with  God1 
but  the  other  two  faculties  soon  begin  to  importune  it  once  more. 
The  will,  however,  is  calm,  so  they  become  suspended  once  again ; 
but  eventually,  after  another  short  period  of  suspension,  they 
come  back  to  life. 

1  [Lit.:  "Maintains  the  web."  This  curious  phrase  will  be  familiar  to  readers  of 
St.  John  of  the  Gross  ("Break  the  web  of  this  sweet  encounter":  Living  Flame  of  Love, 
Stanza  I) :  cf .  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  III,  34-40,  where  the  phrase  is  commented  upon 
by  its  author.  Here  I  think  the  reference  is  not  to  the  web,  or  thread,  of  human  life, 
but  to  that  of  Connnunion  with  God.  Changing  the  metaphor,  one  might  render: 
"It  is  the  will  that  is  the  soul's  stanchion."  In  the  text,  however,  I  have  used  a  phrase 
which  better  suits  the  context.] 


no  LIFE  [CHAP. 

With  all  this  happening,  the  time  spent  in  prayer  may  last, 
and  does  last,  for  some  hours;  for,  once  the  two  faculties  have 
begun  to  grow  inebriated  with  the  taste  of  this  Divine  wine, 
they  are  very  ready  to  lose  themselves  in  order  to  gain  the  more, 
and  so  they  keep  company  with  the  will  and  all  three  rejoice 
together.  But  this  state  in  which  they  are  completely  lost,  and 
have  no  power  of  imagining  anything — for  the  imagination,  I 
believe,  is  also  completely  lost — is,  as  I  say,  of  brief  duration, 
although  the  faculties  do  not  recover  to  such  an  extent  as  not 
to  be  for  some  hours,  as  it  were,  in  disorder,  God,  from  time  to 
time,  gathering  them  once  more  to  Himself. 

Let  us  now  come  to  the  most  intimate  part  of  what  the  soul 
experiences  in  this  condition.  The  persons  who  must  speak 
of  it  are  those  who  know  it,  for  it  cannot  be  understood,  still  less 
described.  As  I  was  about  to  write  of  this  (I  had  just  communi- 
cated and  had  been  experiencing  this  very  prayer  of  which  I  am 
writing),  I  was  wondering  what  it  is  the  soul  does  during  that 
time,  when  the  Lord  said  these  words  to  me:  "It  dies  to  itself 
wholly,1  daughter,  in  order  that  it  may  fix  itself  more  and  more 
upon  Me;  it  is  no  longer  itself  that  lives,  but  I.  As  it  cannot 
comprehend  what  it  understands,  it  is  an  understanding  which 
understands  not."  One  who  has  experienced  this  will  under- 
stand something  of  it;  it  cannot  be  more  clearly  expressed, 
since  all  that  comes  to  pass  in  this  state  is  so  obscure.  I  can  only 
say  that  the  soul  feels  close  to  God  and  that  there  abides  within 
it  such  a  certainty  that  it  cannot  possibly  do  other'  than  believe. 
All  the  faculties  now  fail  and  are  suspended  in  such  a  way  that, 
as  I  have  said,  it  is  impossible  to  believe  they  are  active.  If  the 
soul  has  been  meditating  upon  any  subject,2  this  vanishes  from 
its  memory  as  if  it  had  never  thought  of  it."  If  it  has  been  reading, 
it  is  unable  to  concentrate  upon  what  it  was  reading  or  to  remem- 
ber it;  and  the  same  is  true  if  it  has  been  praying.  So  it  is  that 
this  importunate  little  butterfly — the  memory — is  now  burning 
its  wings  and  can  no  longer  fly.  The  will  must  be  fully  occupied 
in  loving,  but  it  cannot  understand  how  it  loves;  the  under- 
standing, if  it  understands,  does  not  understand  how,  it 
understands,  or  at  least  can  comprehend  nothing  of  what 
it  understands.  It  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  understanding, 
because,  as  I  say,  it  does  not  understand  itself.  Nor  can  I  my- 
self understand  this. 

There  was  one  thing  of  which  at  first  I  was  ignorant:  I  did  not 

1  [The  Spanish  is  dcshdcesei  this  verb,  often  used  by  St.  Teresa,  is  the  contrary  of 
la&r,  to  do,  and  can  generally  be  rendered  "be  consumed",  "be  destroyed" :  "be 
anmHlated".] 

2  [Paw:  incident,  occurrence — here,  no  doubt,  referring  to  some  scene  in  the 
Gospels.] 


XVIII]  LIFE  in 

know  that  God  was  in  all  things.,  and,  when  He  seemed  to  me  to  be 
so  very  present,  I  thought  it  impossible.  I  could  not  cease  believ- 
ing that  He  was  there,  for  it  seemed  almost  certain  that  I  had 
been  conscious  of  His  very  presence.  Unlearned  persons  would 
tell  me  that  He  was  there  only  by  grace;  but  I  could  not  believe 
that,  for,  as  I  say,  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  really  present; 
and  so  I  continued  to  be  greatly  distressed.  From  this  doubt  I 
was  freed  by  a  very  learned  man  of  the  Order  of  the  glorious 
Saint  Dominic1:  he  told  me  that  He  was  indeed  present  and 
described  how  He  communicated  Himself  to  us,  which  brought 
me  very  great  comfort.  It  is  to  be  noted  and  understood  that 
this  water  from  Heaven,  this  greatest  of  the  Lord's  favours, 
leaves  the  greatest  benefits  in  the  soul,  as  I  shall  now  explain. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Continues  the  same  subject*  Begins  to  describe  the  ejects  produced  in  the 
soul  by  this  degree  of  prayer.  Exhorts  souls  earnestly  not  to  turn 
back,  even  if  after  receiving  this  favour  they  should  fall,  and  not  to 
give  up  prayer.  Describes  the  harm  that  will  ensue  if  they  do  not 
follow  this  counsel.  This  chapter  is  to  be  read  very  carefully  and 
will  be  of  great  comfort  to  the  weak  and  to  sinners. 

The  soul  that  has  experienced  this  prayer  and  this  union  is  left 
with  a  very  great  tenderness,  of  such  a  kind  that  it  would  gladly 
become  consumed,2  not  with  pain  but  in  tears  of  joy.  It  finds 
itself  bathed  in  these  tears  without  having  been  conscious  of  them 
or  knowing  when  or  how  it  shed  them*  But  it  derives  great  joy 
from  seeing  the  vehemence  of  the  fire  assuaged  by  water  which 
makes  it  burn  the  more.  This  sounds  like  nonsense  but  none  the 
less  it  is  what  happens.  Sometimes,  when  I  have  reached  the  end 
of  this  prayer,  I  have  been  so  completely  beside  myself  that  I 
have  not  known  whether  it  has  been  a  dream  or  whether  the  bliss 
that  I  have  been  experiencing  has  really  come  to  me;  and  I 
have  only  known  that  it  has  not  been  e  dream  through  finding 
myself  bathed  in  tears,  which  have  been  flowing  without  causing 
me  any  distress  and  with  such  vehemence  and  rapidity  that  it 
has  been  as  if  they  had  fallen  from  a  cloud  in  heaven.  This 
would  happen  to  me  in  the  early  stages,  when  the  condition  soon 
passed  away. 

1  Probably  P.  B£nez,  though  P.  Gracian  and  Maria  de  San  Jos6  say  that  P.  Barrdn 
is  meant. 

2  [Deshaeerse.  Gf.  p.  no,  n.  i,  above.] 


ii2  LIFE  [CHAP. 

The  soul  is  left  so  full  of  courage  that  it  would  be  greatly 
comforted  if  at  that  moment,  for  God's  sake,  it  could  be  hacked 
to  pieces.  It  is  then  that  it  makes  heroic  resolutions  and  promises, 
that  its  desires  become  full  of  vigour,  that  it  begins  to  abhor  the 
world  and  that  it  develops  the  clearest  realization  of  its  own 
vanity.  The  benefits  that  it  receives  are  more  numerous  and 
sublime  than  any  which  proceed  from  the  previous  states  of  prayer ; 
and  its  humility  is  also  greater,  for  it  clearly  sees  how  by  no 
efforts  of  its  own  it  could  either  gam  or  keep  so  exceeding  and  so 
great  a  favour.  It  also  sees  clearly  how  extremely  unworthy  it  is — 
for  in  a  room  bathed  in  sunlight  not  a  cobweb  can  remain  hidden. 
It  sees  its  own  wretchedness.  So  far  is  vainglory  from  it  that 
it  cannot  believe  it  could  ever  be  guilty  of  such  a  thing.  For 
now  it  sees  with  its  own  eyes  that  of  itself  it  can  do  little  or 
nothing,  and  that  it  hardly  even  gave  its  consent  to  what  has 
happened  to  it,  but  that,  against  its  own  will,  the  door  seemed  to 
be  closed  upon  all  the  senses  so  that  it  might  have  the  greater 
fruition  of  the  Lord.  It  is  alone  with  Him:  what  is  there  for  it 
to  do  but  to  love  Him?  It  can  neither  see  nor  hear  save  by  making 
a  great  effort  and  it  can  take  little  credit  for  that.  Then  its  past 
life  comes  up  before  it  and  all  the  truth  of  God's  great  mercy 
is  revealed.  The  understanding  has  no  need  to  go  out  hunting; 
for  its  food  is  already  prepared.  The  soul  realizes  that  it  has 
deserved  to  go  to  hell,  yet  its  punishment  is  to  taste  glory.  It 
becomes  consumed1  in  praises  of  God  as  I  would  fain  become  now. 
Blessed  be  Thou,  my  Lord,  Who  from  such  filthy  slime  as  I 
dost  draw  water  so  pure  as  to  be  meet  for  Thy  table!  Praised 
be  Thou,  O  Joy  of  the  angels,  Who  art  thus  pleased  to  raise  up  a 
worm  so  vile! 

The  benefits  thus  achieved  remain  in  the  soul  for  some  time; 
having  now  a  clear  realization  that  the  fruits  of  this  prayer  are 
not  its  own,  it  can  start  to  share  them  and  yet  have  no  lack  of 
them  itself.  It  begins  to  show  signs  of  being  a  soul  that  is  guarding 
the  treasures  of  Heaven  and  to  be  desirous  of  sharing  them  with 
others  and  to  beseech  God  that  it  may  not  be  alone  in  its  riches. 
Almost  without  knowing  it,  and  doing  nothing  consciously  to 
that  end,  it  begins  to  benefit  its  neighbours,  and  they  become 
aware  of  this  benefit  because  the  flowers  have  aow  so  powerful 
a  fragrance  as  to  make  them  desire  to  approach  them.  They 
realize  that  the  soul  has  virtues,  and,  seeing  how  desirable  the 
fruit  is,  would  fain  help  it  to  partake  of  it.  If  the  ground  is  well 
dug  over  by  trials,  persecutions,  back-bitings  and  infirmities 
(for  few  can  attain  such  a  state  without  these),  and  if  it  is  broken 
up  by  detachment  from  self-interest,  the  water  will  sink  in  so  far 

1  [Dcshacerse.'] 


XIX]  LIFE  113 

that  it  will  hardly  ever  grow  dry  again.  But  if  it  is  just  earth  in 
the  virgin  state  and  as  full  of  thorns  as  I  was  at  first;  if  it  is  not 
yet  free  from  occasions  of  sin  and  not  so  grateful  as  it  should  be 
after  receiving  such  great  favours :  then  it  will  once  again  become 
dry.  If  the  gardener  becomes  careless,  and  the  Lord  is  not  pleased, 
out  of  His  sheer  goodness,  to  send  rain  upon  it  afresh,  then  you  can 
set  down  the  garden  as  ruined.  This  happened  to  me  several 
times  and  I  am  really  amazed  at  it:  if  I  had  not  had  personal 
experience  of  it,  I  could  not  believe  it.  I  write  this  for  the  con- 
solation of  weak  souls  like  myself,  so  that  they  may  never  despair 
or  cease  to  trust  in  God's  greatness.  Even  if,  after  reaching  so 
high  a  point  as  this  to  which  the  Lord  has  brought  them,  they 
should  fall,  they  must  not  be  discouraged  if  they  would  not  be 
utterly  lost.  For  tears  achieve  everything:  one  kind  of  water 
attracts  another. 

This  is  one  of  the  reasons  why,  though  being  what  I  am, 
I  was  encouraged  to  obey  my  superiors  by  writing  this  and  giving 
an  account  of  my  wretched  life  and  of  the  favours  which  the  Lord 
has  granted  me,  albeit  I  have  not  served  Him  but  offended  Him. 
I  only  wish  I  were  a  person  of  great  authority  so  that  my  words 
might  be  believed:  I  beseech  the  Lord  that  His  Majesty  may  be 
pleased  to  grant  me  this.  I  repeat  that  no  one  who  has  begun 
to  practise  prayer  should  be  discouraged  and  say:  "If  I  am  going 
to  fall  again,  it  will  be  better  for  me  not  to  go  on  practising  prayer." 
I  think  it  will  be  if  such  a  person  gives  up  prayer  and  does  not 
amend  his  evil  life;  but,  if  he  does  not  give  it  up,  he  may  have 
confidence  that  prayer  will  bring  him  into  the  haven  of  light. 
This  was  a  matter  about  which  the  devil  kept  plaguing  me,  and  I 
suffered  so  much  through  thinking  myself  lacking  in  humility 
for  continuing  prayer,  when  I  was  so  wicked,  that,  as  I  have  said, 
for  a  year  and  a  half  I  gave  it  up — or  at  any  rate  for  a  year:  I 
am  not  quite  sure  about  the  six  months.  This  would  have  been 
nothing  less  than  plunging  into  hell — nor  was  it:  there  was  no 
need  for^  any  devils  to  send  me  there.  Oh,  God  help  me,  how 
terribly  blind  I  was !  How  well  the  devil  succeeds  in  his  purpose 
when  he  pursues  us  like  this!  The  deceiver  knows  that  if  a  soul 
perseveres  in  practising  prayer  it  will  be  lost  to  him,  and  that,  by 
the  goodness  of  God,  all  the  relapses  into  which  he  can  lead  it 
will  only  help  it  to  make  greater  strides  onward  in  His  service. 
And  this  is  a  matter  of  some  concern  to  the  devil. 

O  my  Jesus!  What  a  sight  it  is  to  see  a  soul  which  has  attained 
as  far  as  this,  and  has  fallen  into  sin,  when  Thou  of  Thy  mercy 
stretchest  forth  Thy  hand  to  it  again  and  raisest  it  up!  How 
conscious  it  becomes  of  the  multitude  of  Thy  wonders  and 
mercies,  and  of  its  own  wretchedness  1  Now  indeed  is  it  consumed 


ii4  LIFE  [CHAP. 

with  shame  when  it  acknowledges  Thy  wonders.  Now  it  dares 
not  raise  its  eyes.  Now  it  raises  them  only  to  acknowledge  what 
it  owes  Thee.  Now  it  devoutly  beseeches  the  Queen  of  Heaven 
to  propitiate  Thee.  Now  it  invokes  the  saints,  who  likewise  fell 
after  Thou  hadst  called  them,  that  they  may  aid  it.  Now  it  feels 
all  Thou  givest  it  to  be  bounty  indeed,  for  it  knows  itself  to  be  un- 
worthy even  of  the  ground  it  treads  upon.  It  has  recourse  to  the 
Sacraments  and  a  lively  faith  is  implanted  in  it  when  it  sees 
what  virtues  God  has  placed  in  them;  it  praises  Thee  for  having 
left  us  such  medicine  and  such  ointment  for  our  wounds,  which, 
far  from  healing  them  superficially,  eradicate  them  altogether. 
At  this  it  is  amazed — and  who,  Lord  of  my  soul,  can  be  other 
than  amazed  at  mercy  so  great  and  favour  so  immense,  at  treason 
so  foul  and  abominable?  I  cannot  think  why  my  heart  does  not 
break  when  I  write  this,  wicked  that  I  am. 

With  these  few  tears  that  I  am  here  shedding,  which  are  Thy 
gift  (water,  in  so  far  as  it  comes  from  me,  drawn  from  a  well  so 
impure),  I  seem  to  be  making  Thee  payment  for  all  my  acts  of 
treachery — for  the  evil  that  I  have  so  continually  wrought  and 
for  the  attempts  that  I  have  made  to  blot  out  the  favours  Thou 
hast  granted  me.  Do  Thou,  my  Lord,  make  my  tears  of  some 
efficacy.  Purify  this  turbid  stream,  if  only  that  I  may  not  lead 
others  to  be  tempted  to  judge  me,  as  I  have  been  tempted  to 
judge  others  myself.  For  I  used  to  wonder,  Lord,  why  Thou 
didst  pass  by  persons  who  were  most  holy,  who  had  been  piously 
brought  up,  who  had  always  served  Thee  and  laboured  for  Thee 
and  who  were  truly  religious  and  not,  like  myself,  religious  only 
in  name:  I  could  not  see  why  Thou  didst  not  show  them  the  same 
favours  as  Thoji  showedst  to  me.  And  then,  O  my  Good,  it  became 
clear  to  me  that  Thou  art  keeping  their  reward  to  give  them  all 
at  once — that  my  weakness  needs  the  help  Thou  bestowest  on 
me,  whereas  they,  being  strong,  can  serve  Thee  without  it,  and 
that  therefore  Thou  dost  treat  them  as  brave  souls  and  as  souls 
devoid  of  self-seeking. 

But  nevertheless  Thou  knowest,  my  Lord,  that  I  would  often 
cry  out  unto  Thee,  and  make  excuses  for  those  who  spoke  ill  of 
me,  for  I  thought  they  had  ample  reason  for  doing  so.  This, 
Lord,  was  after  Thou  of  Thy  goodness  hadst  kept  me  from  so 
greatly  offending  Thee  and  when  I  was  turning  aside  from 
everything  which  I  thought  could  cause  Thee  displeasure;  and 
as  I  did  this,  Lord,  Thou  didst  begin  to  open  Thy  treasures  for 
Thy  servant.  It  seemed  that  Thou  weft  waiting  for  nothing  else 
than  that  I  should  be  willing  and  ready  to  receive  them,  and  so, 
after  a  short  time,  Thou  didst  begin,  not  only  to  give  them,  but  to 
be  pleased  that  others  should  know  Thou  wert  giving  them,  to  me. 


XIX]  LIFE  115 

When  this  became  known,  people  began  to  have  a  good 
opinion  of  one  of  whose  great  wickedness  all  were  not  fully  aware, 
though  much  of  it  was  clearly  perceptible.  Then  suddenly  began 
evil-speaking  and  persecution,  and  I  think  with  great  justification, 
so  I  conceived  enmity  for  none,  but  besought  Thee  to  consider 
how  far  they  were  justified.  They  said  that  I  wanted  to  become 
a  saint,  and  that  I  was  inventing  new-fangled  practices,  though 
in  many  respects  I  had  not  even  achieved  the  full  observance 
of  my  Rule,  nor  had  I  attained  to  the  goodness  and  sanctity 
of  nuns  in  my  own  house,  and  indeed  I  do  not  believe  that  I 
ever  shall  unless  God  brings  this  about  of  His  own  goodness. 
On  the  contrary,  I  was  well  on  the  way  to  giving  up  things  that 
were  good  and  adopting  habits  that  were  not  so :  at  least  I  was 
adopting  them  to  the  best  of  my  ability  and  I  had  a  great  deal  of 
ability  for  doing  wrong.  So  these  people  were  not  to  blame 
when  they  blamed  me.  I  do  not  mean  only  the  nuns,  but  other 
people:  they  revealed  things  about  me  that  were  true  because 
Thou  didst  permit  it. 

Once  when,  after  having  been  tempted  in  this  way  for  some 
time,  I  was  reciting  the  Hours,  I  came  to  the  verse  which  says: 
"Justus  es,  D  offline,  and  Thy  judgments.  .  .  -5'1  I  began  to  think 
how  very  true  this  was ;  for  the  devil  was  never  powerful  enough 
to  tempt  me  sufficiently  to  make  me  doubt  that  Thou,  my  Lord, 
hast  all  good  things,  or  any  other  truth  of  the  Faith;  indeed,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  less  of  a  natural  foundation  these 
truths  had,  the  more  firmly  I  held  them  and  the  greater  was  the 
devotion  they  inspired  in  me.  Since  Thou  art  almighty,  I 
accepted  all  the  wondrous  works  which  Thou  hadst  done  as 
most  certain;  and  in  this  respect,  as  I  say,  I  never  harboured  a 
doubt.  While  I  was  wondering  how  in  Thy  justice  Thou  couldst 
ordain  that  so  many  of  Thy  faithful  handmaidens,  as  I  have  said, 
should  not  be  given  the  graces  and  favours  which  Thou  didst 
bestow  on  me,  being  such  as  I  was,  Thou  didst  answer  me,  Lord, 
saying  "  Serve  thou  Me,  and  meddle  not  with  this  ".  This  was  the 
first  word  which  I  ever  heard  Thee  speak  to  me  and  so  it  made 
me  very  much  afraid;  but,  as  I  shall  describe  this  method  of 
hearing  later,  together  with  certain  other  things,  I  will  say 
nothing  abouj  it  here,  for  that  would  be  to  digress  from  my 
purpose  and  I  think  I  have  digressed  quite  sufficiently  as  it  is. 
I  hardly  know  what  I  have  said.  It  cannot  be  otherwise,  and 

1  Psalm  cxviii,  137  [A.V.,  cxix.j  137].  The  Latin  text  is:  " Justus  es,  Domme,  et 
rectum  judicium  tuum."  The  remainder  of  the  verse  no  doubt  escaped  the  Saint's 
memory.  [The  Latin  opening  she  would  remember,  because  it  comes  at  the  beginning 
of  one  of  the  divisions  of  the  psalm.  This  is  an  interesting  illustration  of  her  indiffer- 
ence to  precision  in  her  work.  Even  a  hasty  revision  would  have  revealed  the 
omission  of  the  latter  part  of  the  verse,  it  is  strange  that  P.  Binez  did  not  supply  it.] 


n6  LIFE  [CHAP. 

Your  Reverence  must  suffer  these  lapses;  for,  when  I  consider 
what  God  has  borne  with  from  me,  and  find  myself  in  my  present 
state,  it  is  not  surprising  if  I  lose  the  thread  of  what  I  am  saying 
and  of  what  I  still  have  to  say.  May  it  please  the  Lord  that  any 
foolishness  I  talk  shall  be  of  this  kind  and  may  His  Majesty  never 
allow  me  to  have  the  power  to  resist  Him  in  the  smallest  degree; 
rather  than  that,  let  Him  consume  me,  just  as  I  am,  at  this  very 
moment. 

,  It  suffices  as  an  illustration  of  His  great  mercies  that  He  should 
have  forgiven  such  ingratitude  as  mine,  and  this  not  once  but 
many  times.  He  forgave  Saint  Peter  once ;  but  me  He  has  forgiven 
often.  Good  reason  had  the  devil  for  tempting  me,  telling  me 
not  to  aspire  to  a  close  friendship  with  One  for  Whom  I  was  so 
publicly  showing  my  enmity.  How  terribly  blind  I  was !  Where, 
my  Lord,  did  I  think  I  could  find  help  save  in  Thee?  What 
foolishness  to  flee  from  the  light  and  to  walk  on  all  the  time 
stumbling!  What  a  proud  humility  did  the  devil  find  in  me  when 
I  ceased  to  make  use  of  the  pillar  and  the  staff  whose  support  I 
so  greatly  need  lest  I  should  suffer  a  great  fall !  As  I  write  I  make 
the  sign  of  the  Cross :  I  do  not  believe  I  have  ever  passed  through 
so  grave  a  peril  as  when  the  devil  put  this  idea  into  my  head 
under  the  guise  of  humility.  How,  he  asked  me,  could  one  who, 
after  receiving  such  great  favours,  was  still  as  wicked  as  I, 
approach  God  in  prayer?  It  was  enough  for  me,  he  would  go  on, 
to  recite  the  prayers  enjoined  upon  me,  as  all  the  nuns  did,  but 
I  did  not  even  do  this  properly:  why,  then,  should  I  want  to  do 
more?  It  was  showing  small  respect  and  indeed  contempt  for 
the  favours  of  God.  I  was  right  to  think  about  this  and  to  try  to 
realize  it,  but  extremely  wrong  to  put  my  thoughts  into  practice. 
Blessed  be  Thou,  Lord,  Who  didst  thus  succour  me ! 

This  seems  to  me  to  be  the  principle  on  which  the  devil  tempted 
Judas,  except  that  he  dared  not  tempt  me  so  openly:  none  the  less, 
he  would  gradually  have  brought  me  to  the  same  fate.  For  the 
love  of  God,  let  all  who  practise  prayer  consider  this.  Let  them 
be  told  that  by  far  the  worst  life  I  ever  led  was  when  I  abandoned 
prayer.  Let  them  consider  with  what  a  fine  remedy  the  devil 
provided  me  and  with  what  a  pretty  humility  he  inspired  me. 
It  caused  me  a  great  deaL  of  inward  unrest.  And  how  could  my 
soul  find  any  rest?  Miserable  creature  that  it  was,  it  went 
farther  and  farther  away  from  its  rest.  I  was  very  conscious  of 
the  favours  and  graces  I  had  received  from  Thee;  for  the  pleasures 
of  earth  I  felt  a  loathing :  I  am  amazed  that  I  was  able  to  endure 
it  all.  Only  hope  enabled  me  to  do  SQ,  for,  as  far  as  I  can  remem- 
ber (and  it  must  have  been  more  than  twenty-one  years  ago), 
I  never  swerved  from  my  resolution  to  return  to  prayers — I  was 


XIX]  LIFE  117 

only  waiting  until  I  should  be  quite  free  from  sins,  Oh,  how  far 
this  hope  led  me  astray! 

The  devil  would  have  encouraged  me  in  it  until  the  Day 
of  Judgment,  so  that  he  might  then  carry  me  off  to  helL 
But,  though  I  had  recourse  to  prayer  and  reading,  and  these 
revealed  truths  to  me  and  showed  me  along  what  a  disastrous 
road  I  was  walking,  and  though  I  importuned  the  Lord,  often 
with  tears,  I  was  so  wicked  that  all  this  could  avail  me  nothing. 
When  I  abandoned  these  practices,  and  gave  myself  up  to  pastimes 
which  led  me  into  many  occasions  of  sin  and  helped  me  but  little 
— I  will  even  venture  to  say  that  the  only  thing  they  helped  me 
to  do  was  to  fall — what  could  I  expect  but  what  I  have  already 
mentioned?  I  think  much  credit  in  the  sight  of  God  is  due  to  a 
friar  of  the  Order  of  Saint  Dominic,1  a  very  learned  man,  for  it 
was  he  who  awakened  me  from  this  sleep;  it  was  he  who,  as  I 
think  I  said,  made  me  communicate  once  a  fortnight,  and  do  less 
that  was  wrong.  I  began  to  return  to  my  senses,  though  I  did 
not  cease  to  offend  the  Lord,  but,  as  I  had  not  lost  my  way,  I 
continued  upon  it,  first  falling  and  then  rising  again,  and  making 
very  little  progress;  still,  he  who  never  ceases  walking,  and 
advances  all  the  time,  may  reach  his  goal  late,  but  does  reach  it 
all  the  same.  To  lose  one's  way  seems  to  be  the  same  thing  as 
giving  up  prayer.  May  God,  for  His  name's  sake,  deliver  us 
from  doing  so. 

From  this  it  is  evident  (and  for  the  love  of  the  Lord  let  it  be 
carefully  noted)  that,  even  if  a  soul  should  attain  the  point  of 
receiving  great  favours  from  God  in  prayer,  it  must  put  no  trust 
in  itself,  since  it  is  prone  to  fall,  nor  must  it  expose  itself  to  occasions 
of  sin  in  any  way  whatsoever.  This  should  be  carefully  considered, 
for  it  is  most  important:  even  though  a  favour  may  undoubtedly 
have  come  from  God,  the  devil  will  later  be  able  to  practise  a 
deception  upon  us  by  treacherously  making  such  use  as  he  can 
of  that  very  favour  against  persons  who  are  not  strong  in  the 
virtues,  or  detached,  or  mortified;  for  such  persons,  as  I  shall 
explain  later,  are  not  sufficiently  strengthened  to  expose  themselves 
to  occasions  of  sin  and  other  perils,  however  sincere  may  be  their 
desires  and  resolutions.  This  is  excellent  doctrine,  and  it  is  not 
mine,  but  has  been  taught  me  by  God,  and  so  I  should  like 
people  as  ignorant  as  I  am  to  know  it.  Even  if  a  soul  should 
be  in  this  state,  it  must  not  trust  itself  so  far  as  to  sally  forth  to 
battle:  it  will  have  quite  enough  to  do  to  defend  itself.  Arms  are 
needed  here  for  defence  against  devils :  the  soul  is  not  yet  strong 
enough  to  fight  against  them  and  to  trample  them  under  its 
feet  as  do  those  in  the  state  which  I  shall  describe  later. 

1  P.  Barr6n. 


ii8  LIFE  [CHAP. 

This  is  the  deception  by  which  the  devil  wins  his  prey.  When 
a  soul  finds  itself  very  near  to  God  and  sees  what  a  difference 
there  is  between  the  good  things  of  Heaven  and  those  of  earth, 
and  what  love  the  Lord  is  showing  it,  there  is  born  of  this  love  a 
confidence  and  security  that  there  will  be  no  falling  away  from 
what  it  is  now  enjoying.  It  seems  to  have  a  clear  vision  of  the 
reward  and  believes  that  it  cannot  now  possibly  leave  something 
which  even  in  this  life  is  so  sweet  and  delectable  for  anything  as 
base  and  soiled  as  earthly  pleasure.  Because  it  has  this  confidence, 
the  devil  is  able  to  deprive  it  of  the  misgivings  which  it  ought  to 
have  about  itself;  and,  as  I  say,  it  runs  into  many  dangers,  and 
in  its  zeal  begins  to  give  away  its  fruit  without  stint,  thinking 
that  it  has  now  nothing  to  fear.  This  condition  is  not  a  concomit- 
ant of  pride,  for  the  soul  clearly  understands  that  of  itself  it  can 
do  nothing;  it  is  the  result  of  its  extreme  confidence  in  God,  which 
knows  no  discretion.  The  soul  does  not  realize  that  it  is  like  a 
bird  still  unfledged.  It  is  able  to  come  out  of  the  nest,  and  God 
is  taking  it  out,  but  it  is  not  yet  ready  to  fly,  for  its  virtues  are  not 
yet  strong  and  it  has  no  experience  which  will  warn  it  of  dangers, 
nor  is  it  aware  of  the  harm  done  by  self-confidence. 

It  was  this  that  ruined  me;  and,  both  because  of  this  and  for 
other  reasons,  the  soul  has  great  need  of  a  director  and  of  inter- 
course with  spiritual  people.  I  fully  believe  that,  unless  a  soul 
brought  to  this  state  by  God  completely  abandons  Him,  His 
Majesty  will  not  cease  to  help  it  nor  will  He  allow  it  to  be  lost. 
But  when,  as  I  have  said,  the  soul  falls,  let  it  look  to  it — for  the 
love  of  the  Lord,  let  it  look  to  it — lest  the  devil  trick  it  into 
abandoning  prayer,  in  the  way  he  tricked  me,  by  inspiring  it 
with  a  false  humility,  as  I  have  said,  and  as  I  should  like  to  repeat 
often.  Let  it  trust  in  the  goodness  of  God,  which  is  greater  than 
all  the  evil  we  can  do.  When,  with  full  knowledge  of  ourselves, 
we  desire  to  return  to  friendship  with  Him,  He  remembers 
neither  our  ingratitude  nor  our  misuse  of  the  favours  that  He 
has  granted  us.  He  might  well  chastise  us  for  these  sins,  but  in 
fact  He  makes  use  of  them  only  to  forgive  us  the  more  readily, 
just  as  He  would  forgive  those  who  have  been  members  of  His 
household,  and  who,  as  they  say,  have  eaten  of  His  bread.  Let 
them  remember  His  words  and  consider  what  He  has  done  to 
me,  who  wearied  of  offending  His  Majesty  before  He  ceased 
forgiving  me.  Never  does  He  weary  of  giving  and  never  can 
His  mercies  be  exhausted :  let  us,  then,  not  grow  weary  of  receiving. 
May  He  be  blessed  for  ever,  Amen,  and  may  all  things  praise 
Him. 


XX]  LIFE  119 


CHAPTER   XX 

Treats  of  the  difference  between  union  and  rapture.  Describes  the  nature 
of  rapture  and  says  something  of  the  blessing  that  comes  to  the  soul 
which  the  Lord,  of  His  goodness,  brings  to  it.  Describes  the  effects 
which  it  produces.  This  chapter  is  particularly  admirable. 

I  should  like,  with  the  help  of  God,  to  be  able  to  describe  the 
difference  between  union  and  rapture,  or  elevation,  or  what  they 
call  flight  of  the  spirit,  or  transport — it  is  all  one.  I  mean  that 
these  different  names  all  refer  to  the  same  thing,  which  is  also 
called  ecstasy.  It  is  much  more  beneficial  than  union :  the  effects 
it  produces  are  far  more  important  and  it  has  a  great  many  more 
operations,  for  union  gives  the  impression  of  being  just  the  same 
at  the  beginning,  in  the  middle  and  at  the  end,  and  it  all 
happens  interiorly.  But  the  ends  of  these  raptures  are  of  a 
higher  degree,  and  the  effects  they  produce  are  both  interior  and 
exterior.  May  the  Lord  explain  this,  as  He  has  explained  every- 
thing else,  for  I  should  certainly  know  nothing  of  it  if  His  Majesty 
had  not  shown  me  the  ways  and  manners  in  which  it  can  to  some 
extent  be  described. 

Let  us  now  reflect  that  this  last  water  which  we  have  described 
is  so  abundant  that,  were  it  not  that  the  ground  is  incapable 
of  receiving  it,  we  might  believe  this  cloud  of  great  Majesty 
to  be  with  us  here  on  this  earth.  But  as  we  are  giving  Him 
thanks  for  this  great  blessing,  and  doing  our  utmost  to  draw 
near  to  Him  in  a  practical  way,  the  Lord  gathers  up  the  soul,  just 
(we  might  say)  as  the  clouds  gather  up  the  vapours  from  the  earth, 
and  raises  it  up  till  it  is  right  out  of  itself  (I  have  heard  that  it  is 
in  this  way  that  the  clouds  or  the  sun  gather  up  the  vapours)1 
and  the  cloud  rises  to  Heaven  and  takes  the  soul  with  it,  and 
begins  to  reveal  to  it  things  concerning  the  Kingdom  that  He  has 
prepared  for  it.  I  do  not  know  if  the  comparison  is  an  exact  one, 
but  that  is  the  way  it  actually  happens. 

In  these  raptures  the  soul  seems  no  longer  to  animate  the  body, 
and  thus  the  natural  heat  of  the  body  is  felt  to  be  very  sensibly 
diminished: -it  gradually  becomes  colder,  though  conscious  of 
the  greatest  sweetness  and  delight.  No  means  of  resistance  is 
possible,  whereas  in  union,  where  we  are  on  our  own  ground, 
such  a  means  exists:  resistance  may  be  painful  and  violent  but 
it  can  almost  always  be  effected.  But  with  rapture,  as  a  rule, 

1  The  bracketed  sentence  is  found  in  the  margin  of  the  autograph  in  St.  Teresa's 
hand. 


120  LIFE  [CHAP. 

there  is  no  such  possibility:  often  it  comes  like  a  strong,  swift 
impulse,  before  your  thought  can  forewarn  you  of  it  or  you 
can  do  anything  to  help  yourself;  you  see  and  feel  this  cloud,  or 
this  powerful  eagle,  rising  and  bearing  you  up  with  it  on  its  wings. 

You  realize,  I  repeat,  and  indeed  see,  that  you  are  being 
carried  away,  you  know  not  whither.  For,  though  rapture  brings 
us  delight,  the  weakness  of  our  nature  at  first  makes  us  afraid  of 
it,  and  we  need  to  be  resolute  and  courageous  in  soul,  much 
more  so  than  for  what  has  been  described.  For,  happen  what 
may,  we  must  risk  everything,  and  resign  ourselves  into  the  hands 
of  God  and  go  willingly  wherever  we  are  carried  away,  for  we 
are  in  fact  being  carried  away,  whether  we  like  it  or  no.  In  such 
straits  do  I  find  myself  at  such  a  time  that  very  often  I  should 
be  glad  to  resist,  and  I  exert  all  my  strength  to  do  so,  in  particular 
at  times  when  it  happens  in  public  and  at  many  other  times  in 
private,  when  I  am  afraid  that  I  may  be  suffering  deception. 
Occasionally  I  have  been  able  to  make  some  resistance,  but  at 
the  cost  of  great  exhaustion,  for  I,  would  feel  as  weary  afterwards 
as  though  I  had  been  fighting  with  a  powerful  giant.  At  other 
times,  resistance  has  been  impossible:  my  soul  has  been  borne 
away,  and  indeed  as  a  rule  my  head  also,  without  my  being  able 
to  prevent  it:  sometimes  my  whole  body  has  been  affected,  to 
the  point  of  being  raised  up  from  the  ground. 

This  has  happened  only  rarely;  but  once,  when  we  were 
together  in  choir,  and  I  was  on  my  knees  and  about  to  communi- 
cate, it  caused  me  the  greatest  distress.  It  seemed  to  me  a  most 
extraordinary  thing  and  I  thought  there  would  be  a  great  deal 
of  talk  about  it;  so  I  ordered  the  nuns  (for  it  happened  after  I 
was  appointed  Prioress)  not  to  speak  of  it.  On  other  occasions, 
when  I  have  felt  that  the  Lord  was  going  to  enrapture  me 
(once  it  happened  during  a  sermon,  on  our  patronal  festival, 
when  some  great  ladies  were  present),1 1  have  lain  on  the  ground 
and  the  sisters  have  come  and  held  me  down,  but  none  the  less 
the  rapture  has  been  observed.  I  besought  the  Lord  earnestly 
not  to  grant  me  any  more  favours  which  had  visible  and  exterior 
signs;  for  I  was  exhausted  by  having  to  endure  such  worries 
and  after  all  (I  said)  His  Majesty  could  grant  me  that  favour 
without  its  becoming  known.  He  seems  to  have  been  pleased  of 
His  goodness  to  hear  me,  for  since  making  that  prayer  I  have 
never  again  received  any  such  favours:  it  is  true,  however,  that 
this  happened  not  long  since. 

1  [P.  Silyerio  says  that  this  happened  at  St.  Joseph's,  Avila,  *' about  the  year  1565". 
But,  as  this  book  was  only  completed  in  1565,  and  the  incident  is  referred  to  in  a 
phrase  which  suggests  some  lapse  of  time,  his  chronology  would  seem  to  have  little 
meaning.  Lewis  (p.  162,  n.  6)  says  "  1564  or  1565",  which  is  not  much  better  ] 


XX]  LIFE  121 

When  I  tried  to  resist  these  raptures,  it  seemed  that  I  was  being 
lifted  up  by  a  force  beneath  my  feet  so  powerful  that  I  know 
nothing  to  which  1  can  compare  it,  for  it  came  with  a  much 
greater  vehemence  than  any  other  spiritual  experience  and  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  being  ground  to  powder.  It  is  a  terrible  struggle, 
and  to  continue  it  against  the  Lord's  will  avails  very  little,  for 
no  power  can  do  anything  against  His.  At  other  times  His 
Majesty  is  graciously  satisfied  with  our  seeing  that  He  desires 
to  show  us  this  favour,  and  that,  if  we  do  not  receive  it,  it  is  not 
due  to  Himself.  Then,  if  WTC  resist  it  out  of  humility,  the  same 
effects  follow  as  if  we  had  given  it  our  entire  consent. 

These  effects  are  very  striking.  One  of  them  is  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  Lord's  mighty  power:  as  we  are  unable  to  resist  His 
Majesty's  will,  either  in  soul  or  in  body,  and  are  not  our  own 
masters,  we  realize  that,  however  irksome  this  truth  may  be,  there  is 
One  stronger  than  ourselves,  and  that  these  favours  are  bestowed 
by  Him,  and  that  we,  of  ourselves,  can  do  absolutely  nothing. 
This  imprints  in  us  great  humility.  Indeed,  I  confess  that  in  me 
it  produced  great  fear — at  first  a  terrible  fear.  One  sees  one's 
body  being  lifted  up  from  the  ground;  and  although  the  spirit 
draws  it  after  itself,  and  if  no  resistance  is  offered  does  so  very 
gently,  one  does  not  lose  consciousness — at  least,  I  myself  have 
had  sufficient  to  enable  me  to  realize  that  I  was  being  lifted  up. 
The  majesty  of  Him  Who  can  do  this  is  manifested  in  such  a 
way  that  the  hair  stands  on  end,  and  there  is  produced  a  great 
fear  of  offending  so  great  a  God,  but  a  fear  overpowered  by1 
the  deepest  love,  newly  enkindled,  for  One  Who,  as  we  see,  has 
so  deep  a  love  for  so  loathsome  a  worm  that  He  seems  not  to 
be  satisfied  by  literally  drawing  the  soul  to  Himself,  but  will  also 
have  the  body,  mortal  though  it  is,  and  befouled  as  is  its  clay  by 
all  the  offences  it  has  committed. 

This  favour  also  leaves  a  strange  detachment,  the  nature 
of  which  I  cannot  possibly  describe,  but  I  think  I  can  say  it  is 
somewhat  different — from  that  produced  by  these  purely  spiritual 
favours,  I  mean;  for,  although  these  produce  a  complete  detach- 
ment of  spirit,  in  this  favour  the  Lord  is  pleased  that  it  should 
be  shared  by  the  very  body  and  it  will  thus  experience  a  new 
estrangement  from  things  of  earth,  which  makes  life  much  more 
distressing.  Afterwards  it  produces  a  distress  which  we  cannot 
ourselves  bring  about  or  remove  once  it  has  come.  I  should  like 
very  much  to  explain  this  great  distress,  but  I  am  afraid  I  cannot 
possibly  do  so :  still,  I  will  say  something  about  it  if  I  can. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  these  are  my  most  recent  experiences, 
more  recent  than  all  the  visions  and  revelations  of  which  I  shall 

1  [Erwuelto.  See  p.  34,  n.  i,  above.] 


122  LIFE  [CHAP. 

write  and  than  the  period  during  which  I  practised  prayer  and 
the  Lord  granted  me  such  great  consolations  and  favours.  Though 
these  have  not  ceased,  it  is  this  distress  which  I  shall  now  describe 
that  I  more  frequently  and  habitually  experience  at  present. 
Sometimes  it  is  more  severe  and  sometimes  less  so.  It  is  of  its 
maximum  severity  that  I  will  now  speak;  for  although  I  shall 
later  describe  those  violent  impulses  which  I  used  to  experience 
when  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  grant  me  raptures,  these,  in  my 
view,  have  no  more  connection  with  this  distress  than  has  an 
entirely  physical  experience  with  an  entirely  spiritual  one,  and 
in  saying  that  I  do  not  think  I  am  greatly  exaggerating.  For, 
although  the  distress  I  refer  to  is  felt  by  the  soul,  it  is  also  felt  by 
the  body.  Both  seem  to  share  in  it,  and  it  does  not  cause  the  same 
extreme  sense  of  abandonment  as  does  this.  In  producing  the 
latter,  as  I  have  said,  we  can  take  no  part,  though  very  often  a 
desire  unexpectedly  arises,  in  a  way  which  I  cannot  explain. 
And  this  desire,  which  in  a  single  moment  penetrates  to  the  very- 
depths  of  the  soul,  begins  to  weary  it  so  much  that  the  soul  soars 
upwards,  far  above  itself  and  above  all  created  things,  and  God 
causes  it  to  be  so  completely  bereft  of  everything  that,  however 
hard  it  may  strive  to  do  so,  it  can  find  nothing  on  earth  to  bear  it 
company.  Nor  does  it  desire  company;  it  would  rather  die 
in  its  solitude.  Others  may  speak  to  it,  and  it  may  itself  make 
every  possible  effort  to  speak,  but  all  to  no  avail;  do  what  it  may, 
its  spirit  cannot  escape  from  that  solitude.  God  seems  very  far 
from  the  soul  then,  yet  sometimes  He  reveals  His  greatness  in 
the  strangest  way  imaginable;  this  cannot -be  described — nor,  I 
think,  believed  or  understood — save  by  those  who  have  experienced 
it.  For  it  is  a  communication  intended,  not  to  comfort  the  soul 
but  to  show  it  the  reason  why  it  is  wearied — namely,  that  it  is 
so  far  away  from  the  Good  which  contains  all  that  is  good  within 
Itself. 

In  this  communication  the  desire  grows,  and  with  it  the 
extremity  of  loneliness  experienced  by  the  soul  with  a  distress 
so  subtle  and  yet  so  piercing  that,  set  as  it  is  in  that  desert,  it  can, 
I  think,  say  literally,  as  the  Royal  Prophet  said,  when  he  was  in 
the  same  state  of  loneliness  (except  that,  being  a  saint,  he  may 
have  been  granted  that  experience  by  the  Lord  in  a  higher 
degree) :  Vigitavi>  etfactus  sum  sicut  passer  solitarius  in  tecto^  '  That 
verse  comes  to  my  mind  at  these  times  in  such  a  way  that  I  feel 
it  is  fulfilled  in  myself;  and  it  is  a  comfort  to  me  to  know  that 

1  Psalm  ci,  8.  [A.V.  ch.  7] :  "I  have  watched,  and  am  become  as  a  sparrow  all  alone 
on  the  housetop."  [St.  Teresa's  spelling  of  Latin  is  largely  phonetic  and  always 
quaint  It  will  suffice  to  reproduce  this  one  example  of  if  VigUavi  ed  fatus  sun  sicud 
passer  sohtarius  yn  tecto.'  The  orthography  given  in  the  text  is  here,  and  will  normally 
be  elsewhere,  that  of  the  Vulgate.] 


XX]  LIFE  123 

others,  especially  such  a  prophet  as  this,  have  experienced  that 
great  extremity  of  loneliness.  The  soul,  then,  seems  to  be,  not 
in  itself  at  all,  but  on  the  house-top,  or  the  roof,  of  its  own  house, 
and  raised  above  all  created  things;  I  think  it  is  far  above  even 
its  own  very  highest  part. 

On  other  occasions  the  soul  seems  to  be  going  about  in  a  state 
of  the  greatest  need,  and  asking  itself:  "Where  is  thy  God?"1 
I  should  point  out  here  that  I  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  this 
verse  in  the  vernacular,  and  that  later,  when  I  had  learned  it, 
it  was  a  comfort  to  me  to  think  that  the  Lord  had  brought  it  to 
my  mind  without  any  effort  of  my  own.  At  other  times  I  used 
to  remember  some  words  of  Saint  Paul,  about  his  being  crucified 
to  the  world.2  I  do  not  say  that  this  is  true  of  me — indeed,  I 
know  it  is  not — but  I  think  it  is  true  of  the  soul  when  no  comfort 
comes  to  it  from  Heaven,  and  it  is  not  in  Heaven,  and  when  it 
desires  no  earthly  comfort,  and  is  not  on  earth  either,  but  is,  as 
it  were,  crucified  between  Heaven  and  earth;  and  it  suffers 
greatly,  for  no  help  comes  to  it  either  from  the  one  hand  or  from 
the  other.  For  the  help  which  comes  to  it  from  Heaven  is,  as  I 
have  said,  a  knowledge  of  God  so  wonderful,  and  so  far  above  all 
that  we  can  desire,  that  it  brings  with  it  greater  torment;  for  its 
desire  grows  in  such  a  way  that  I  believe  its  great  distress  some- 
times robs  it  of  consciousness,  though  such  a  state  as  that  lasts 
only  for  a  short  time.  It  seems  as  though  it  were  on  the  threshold 
of  death,  save  that  this  suffering  brings  with  it  such  great  happi- 
ness that  I  know  of  nothing  with  which  it  may  be  compared. 
It  is  a  martyrdom,  severe  but  also  delectable;  for  the  soul  will 
accept  nothing  earthly  that  may  be  offered  it,  even  though  it 
were  the  thing  which  it  had  been  accustomed  to  'enjoy  most: 
it  seems  to  fling  it  away  immediately.  It  realizes  clearly  that  it 
wants  nothing  save  its  God;  but  its  love  is  not  centred  upon  any 
particular  attribute  of  Him :  its  desire  is  for  the  whole  of  God 
and  it  has  no  knowledge  of  what  it  desires.  By  "no  knowledge", 
I  mean  that  no  picture  is  formed  in  the  imagination;  and,  in 
my  opinion,  for  a  great  part  of  the  time  during  which  it  is  in  that 
state,  the  faculties  are  inactive:  they  are  suspended  by  their 
distress,  just  as  in  union  and  rapture  they  are  suspended  by  joy. 

0  Jesus !   I  wish  I  could  give  Your  Reverence  a  clear  explana- 
tion of  this,  if  only  so  that  you  might  tell  me  what  it  is,  for  this  is 
the  state  in  which  my  soul  now  continually  finds  itself.  As  a  rule, 
when  not  occupied,  it  is  plunged  into  these  death-like  yearnings, 
and,  when  I  am  conscious  that  they  are  beginning,  I  become 
afraid,  because  they  do  not  mean  death.  But  when  I  am  actually 

1  Psalm  xli,  4  [A.V.,  xlii.  3], 

a  Galatians  vi.  14:  " .  .  .try  whom  the  world  is  crucified  to  me?  and  I  to  the  world." 


124  LIFE  [CHAP. 

in  that  condition,  I  should  like  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  suffer- 
ing in  that  way,  although  the  pain  is  so  excessive  that  one  can 
hardly  bear  it,  and  occasionally,  according  to  those  of  my  sisters 
who  sometimes  see  me  like  this,  and  so  now  understand  it  better, 
my  pulses  almost  cease  to  beat,  my  bones  are  all  disjointed,  and 
my  hands  are  so  stiff  that  sometimes  I  cannot  clasp  them  together. 
Until  the  next  day  I  have  pains  in  the  wrists,  and  in  the  entire 
body,  as  though  my  bones  had  been  wrenched  asunder. 

Occasionally  I  really  think  that,  if  things  are  to  go  on  like 
this,  it  must  be  the  Lord's  will  to  end  them  by  putting  an  end  to 
my  life;  for  the  distress  I  am  in  is  severe  enough  to  kill  me,  only 
I  do  not  deserve  that  it  should  do  so.  All  my  yearning  at  such  a 
time  is  to  die:  I  do  not  think  of  purgatory,  or  of  the  great  sins  I 
have  committed,  for  which  I  have  deserved  to  go  to  hell.  Such 
is  my  yearning  to  see  God  that  I  forget  everything  and  the 
deserted  and  solitary  state  I  am  in  seems  better  than  all  the  world's 
companionship.  If  anything  could  comfort  a  person  in  this 
condition,  it  would  be  to  speak  with  another  who  has  passed 
through  the  same  torment,  for  she  finds  that,  despite  her  com- 
plaints of  it,  no  one  seems  to  believe  her. 

The  soul  in  this  state  is  also  tormented  because  its  distress  has 
so  greatly  increased  that  it  no  longer  desires  solitude,  as  it  did 
before,  and  the  only  companionship  it  seeks  is  with  one  to  whom 
it  can  voice  its  complaint.  It  is  like  a  person  who  has  a  rope 
around  his  neck,  is  being  strangled  and  is  trying  to  breathe. 
It  seems  to  me,  then,  that  this  desire  for  companionship  proceeds 
from  human  weakness;  for,  since  this  distress  imperils  our  life, 
which  it  most  certainly  does  (as  I  have  said,  I  have  several 
times  found  my  own  life  imperilled  by  serious  dangers  and 
illnesses,  and  I  think  I  might  say  that  this  particular  peril  is  as 
grave  as  any),  the  desire  that  body  and  soul  shall  not  be  parted 
is  like  a  voice  crying  out  for  help  to  breathe;  and  by  speaking  of 
it  and  complaining  and  distracting  itself,  the  soul  seeks  a  way 
to  live  quite  contrarily  to  the  will  of  the  spirit,  or  of  its  own  higher 
part,  which  would  prefer  not  to  escape  from  this  distress. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  am  correct  in  what  I  say,  or  if  I  am  expressing 
"it  properly,  but  to  the  best  of  my  belief  that  is  what  happens. 
I  ask  Your  Reverence,  what  rest  can  I  have  in  this  life,  since  the 
rest  which  I  used  to  enjoy,  and  which  consisted  in  prayer  and 
solitude,  wherein  the  Lord  would  comfort  me,  is  habitually  turned 
into  this  torment;  and  yet  it  is  so  delectable,  and  the  soul  is  so 
conscious  of  its  worth,  that  it  desires  it  more  than  all  the  favours 
which  it  had  been  accustomed  to  enjoy.  It  believes  it,  too,  to  be 
a  safer  state,  because  it  is  the  way  of  the  Cross;  and  in  my  view 
it  comprises  a  delight  of  exceeding  worth,  because  the  body 


XX]  LIFE  125 

gets  nothing  from  it  but  distress,  whereas  the  soul,  even  while 
suffering,  rejoices  alone  in  the  joy  and  happiness  which  this 
suffering  brings.  I  do  not  know  how  this  can  be,  but  so  it  is; 
and  I  believe  I  would  not  change  this  favour  which  the  Lord  is 
bestowing  upon  me  (for  it  is  certainly  entirely  supernatural  and 
conies  from  His  hand,  and,  as  I  have  said,  is  in  no  way  acquired 
by  me)  for  any  of  the  favours  which  I  shall  describe  later:  I  do 
not  say  for  all  of  them  at  once,  but  for  any  one  of  them  taken  by 
itself.  And  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  this  state,  in  which  the 
Lord  is  now  keeping  me,  has  followed  all  the  others  described 
in  this  book:  I  mean  that  these  violent  impulses  have  followed 
the  favours  described  here  as  having  been  bestowed  upon  me  by 
the  Lord. 

At  first  I  was  afraid,  as  I  almost  always  am  when  the  Lord 
bestows  a  favour  upon  me,  though  His  Majesty  reassures  me  as  I 
go  on.  He  told  me  not  to  fear  but  to  set  greater  store  by  this 
favour  than  by  any  other  which  He  had  granted  me;  for  by 
this  distress  the  soul  was  purified,  worked  upon  and  refined  like 
gold  in  the  crucible,  so  that  He  might  the  betted  set  in  it  the  enamel 
of  His  gifts :  it  was  being  cleansed  now  of  the  impurities  of  which 
it  would  need  to  be  cleansed  in  purgatory.  I  had  already 
quite  clearly  realized  that  it  was  a  great  favour,  but  this  made  me 
much  more  certain  of  the  fact,  and  my  confessor  tells  me  that  all 
is  well.  And  although  I  was  afraid,  because  I  was  so  wicked,  I 
could  never  believe  that  it  was  wrong;  it  was  rather  the  sub- 
limity of  the  blessing  that  made  me  afraid,  when  I  remembered 
how  ill  I  had  deserved  it.  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  Who  is  so  good ! 
Amen. 

I  seem  to  have  wandered  from  my  subject,  for  I  began  by 
speaking  of  raptures,  but  what  I  have  been  descnbing  is  something 
even  greater  than  a  rapture  and  thus  it  leaves  behind  it  the  effects 
I  have  referred  to. 

Let  us  now  return  to  raptures,  and  to  their  most  usual  character- 
istics. I  can  testify  that  after  a  rapture  my  body  often  seemed  as 
light  as  if  all  weight  had  left  it :  sometimes  this  was  so  noticeable 
that  I  could  hardly  tell  when  my  feet  were  touching  the  ground. 
For,  while  the  rapture  lasts,  the  body  often  remains  as  if  dead 
and  unable  of  itself  to  do  anything:  it  continues  all  the  time  as 
it  was  when  the  rapture  came  upon  it — in  a  sitting  position,  for 
example,  or  with  the  hands  open  or  shut.  The  subject  rarely 
loses  consciousness :  I  have  sometimes  lost  it  altogether,  but  only 
seldom  and  for  but  a  short  time.  As  a  rule  the  consciousness  is 
disturbed;  and,  though  incapable  of  action  with  respect  to  out- 
ward things,  the  subject  can  still  hear  and  understand,  but  only 
dimly,  as  though  from  a  long  way  off.  I  do  not  say  that  he  can 


126  LIFE  [CHAP. 

hear  and  understand  when  the  rapture  is  at  its  highest  point — by 
"highest  point"  I  mean  when  the  faculties  are  lost  through 
being  closely  united  with  God.  At  that  point,  in  my  opinion, 
he  will  neither  see,  nor  hear,  nor  perceive;  but,  as  I  said  in 
describing  the  preceding  prayer  of  union,  this  complete  trans- 
formation of  the  soul  in  God  lasts  but  a  short  time,  and  it  is 
only  while  it  lasts  that  none  of  the  soul's  faculties  is  able  to 
perceive  or  know  what  is  taking  place.  We  cannot  be  meant  to 
understand  it  while  we  are  on  earth — God,  in  fact,  does  not  wish 
us  to  understand  it  because  we  have  not  the  capacity  for  doing 
so.  I  have  observed  this  myself. 

Your  Reverence  will  ask  me  how  it  is  that  the  rapture  some- 
times lasts  for  so  many  hours.  What  often  happens  to  me  is  that, 
as  I  said  of  the  preceding  state  of  prayer,  it  makes  itself  felt  inter- 
mittently. The  soul  is  often  engulfed — or,  to  put  it  better,  the 
Lord  engulfs  it  in  Himself — and,  when  He  has  kept  it  in  this 
state  for  a  short  time,  He  retains  the  will  alone.  The  movements 
of  the  other  two  faculties  seem  to  me  like  the  movement  of  the 
pointer  on  a  sundial,  which  is  never  motionless;  though  if  it 
pleases  the  Sun  of  Justice1  to  do  so,  He  can  make  it  stand  still. 
What  I  am  describing  lasts  only  a  short  time;  but,  as  the  impulse 
and  the  uplifting  of  the  spirit  have  been  violent,  the  will  is  still 
engulfed  even  when  the  other  two  faculties  begin  to  move  again 
and  produces  that  operation  in  the  body  as  though  it  were  its 
absolute  mistress.  For,  although  the  two  restless  faculties  try 
to  disturb  it,  the  will,  thinking  that  the  fewer  enemies  it  has,  the 
better,  prevents  the  senses  from  doing  so,  and  thus  causes  their 
suspension,  which  is  the  Lord's  will.  For  the  most  part  the  eyes 
are  closed,  though  we  may  not  wish  to  close  them;  if,  as  I  have 
already  said,  they  are  occasionally  open,  the  subject  neither 
perceives  nor  pays  attention  to  what  he  sees. 

There  is  very  little,  then,  that  a  person  in  this  condition  can 
do,  and  this  means  that  there  will  be  little  for  him  to  do  when 
the  faculties  come  together  again.  Anyone,  therefore,  to  whom  the 
Lord  grants  this  favour  must  not  be  discouraged-at  finding,  himself 
in  this  state,  with  the  body  unable  to  move  for  hours  on  end  and 
the  understanding  and  the  memory  sometimes  wandering.  True, 
they  are  generally  absorbed  in  the  praises  of  God  or  in  an  attempt 
to  comprehend  and  realize  what  has  happened  to  them.  But  even 
so  they  are  not  wide  awake:  they  are  like  a  person  who  has  been 
asleep  for  a  long  time  and  has  been  dreaming  and  has  not  yet 
fully  awakened. 

The  reason  I  am  expounding  this  at  such  great  length  is  that 
I  know  that  there  are  persons  now,  in  this  very  place,  to  whom 

1  [Malachias  iv,  2.  A.V:  "Sun  of  Righteousness."] 


XX]  LIFE  127 

the  Lord  is  granting  these  favours;  and  if  those  who  are  directing 
such  persons  have  not  themselves  experienced  them — more 
especially  if  they  have  no  learning — they  may  think  that,  when 
enraptured,  they  ought  to  be  as  if  dead.  It  is  a  shame  that  such 
suffering  should  be  caused  by  confessors  who  do  not  understand 
this,  as  I  shall  say  later.  Perhaps  I  do  not  know  what  I  am  saying; 
but,  if  my  words  are  at  all  to  the  point,  Your  Reverence  will 
understand  it,  for  the  Lord  has  already  given  you  experience  of 
it,  though,  as  this  happened  only  recently,  you  may  not  have 
considered  the  matter  as  fully  as  I.  The  position,  then,  is  that, 
however  hard  I  try,  my  body,  for  considerable  periods,  has  not 
the  strength  to  make  it  capable  of  movement:  all  its  strength  has 
been  taken  away  by  the  soul.  Often  a  person  who  was  previously 
quite  ill  and  troubled  with  severe  pain  finds  himself  in  good  health 
again,  and  even  stronger  than  before,  for  what  the  soul  receives 
in  rapture  is  a  great  gift,  and  sometimes,  as  I  say,  the  Lord  is 
pleased  that  the  body  should  have  a  share  in  it  because  of  its 
obedience  to  the  will  of  the  soul.  After  the  recovery  of  con- 
sciousness, if  the  rapture  has  been  deep,  the  faculties  may  remain 
absorbed  for  a  day  or  two,  or  even  for  as  long  as  three  days, 
and  be  as  if  in  a  state  of  stupor,  so  that  they  seem  to  be  no  longer 
themselves. 

And  now  comes  the  distress  of  having  to  return  to  this  life. 
Now  the  soul  has  grown  new  wings  and  has  learned  to  fly.  Now 
the  little  bird  has  lost  its  unformed  feathers.  Now  in  Christ's 
name  the  standard  is  raised  on  high;  it  would  seem  that  what 
has  happened  is  nothing  less  than  that  the  captain  of  the  fortress 
has  mounted,  or  has  been  led  up,  to  the  highest  of  its  towers,  and 
has  reared  the  standard  aloft  there  in  the  name  of  God.  From 
his  position  of  security  he  looks  down  on  those  below.  No  longer 
does  he  fear  perils;  rather  he  desires  them,  for  through  them,  as 
it  were,  he  receives  the  assurance  of  victory.  This  becomes 
very  evident  in  the  little  weight  now  given  by  the  soul  to  earthly 
matters,  which  it  treats  as  the  worthless  things  that  they  are. 
He  who  is  raised  on  high1  attains  many  things.  The  soul  has  no 
desire  to  seek  or  possess  any  free-will,  even  if  it  so  wished,2  and 
it  is  for  this  that  it  prays  to  the  Lord,  giving  Ham  the  keys 
of  its  will.  Behold,  our  gardener  has  become  the  captain  of  a 
fortress!  He  wants  nothing  save  the  will  of  the  Lord;  he  wants 
to  be  neither  his  own  master  nor  anybody  else's;  he  wants  not 

1  [Qiden  estd  de  lo  alto  ...  I  give  the  most  obvious  translation  of  this  rather  unusual 
phrase  (lit.,  "he  who  is  from  the  height"),  but  I  suspect  the  omission  of  mirando: 
He  who  is  looking  (down)  from  on  high  .  .  ."  the  reference  being  to  the  soul's 
attitude  to  the  world.] 

8  P.  Banez  altered  this  phrase  to:  "It  has  no  desire  to  seek  or  possess  any  will  save 
that  of  Our  Lord,"  and  the  change  was  followed  in  the  edfao  princeps. 


128  LIFE  [CHAP. 

so  much  as  an  apple  from  this  orchard.  If  there  is  anything  of 
value  in  it,  let  His  Majesty  distribute  it;  henceforth,  for  himself, 
he  wants  nothing,  and  desires  only  that  everything  should  be 
done  to  God's  glory  and  in  conformity  with  His  will. 

It  is  in  this  way,  then,  that  these  things  actually  happen, 
if  the  raptures  are  genuine,  in  which  case  there  will  remain  in 
the  soul  the  effects  and  advantages  aforementioned.  If  they  do 
not,  I  should  doubt  very  much  if  they  are  from  God;  indeed,  I 
should  fear  that  they  might  be  the  frenzies  described  by  Saint 
Vincent.1  I  know,  for  I  have  observed  it  in  my  own  experience, 
that  the  soul,  while  enraptured,  is  mistress  of  everything,  and 
in  a  single  hour,  or  in  less,  acquires  such  freedom  that  it  cannot 
recognize  itself.  It  sees  clearly  that  this  state  is  in  no  way  due 
to  itself,  nor  does  it  know  who  has  given  it  so  great  a  blessing, 
but  it  distinctly  recognizes  the  very  great  benefit  which  each  of 
these  raptures  brings  it.  Nobody  will  believe  this  without  having 
had  experience  of  it;  and  so  nobody  believes  the  poor  soul, 
knowing  it  to  have  been  so  wicked  and  seeing  it  now  aspiring 
to  such  heroic  acts;  for  it  is  no  longer  content  with  serving  the 
Lord  a  little  but  must  do  so  to  the  greatest  extent  in  its  power. 
They  think  this  is  a  temptation  and  a  ridiculous  thing.  If  they 
knew  that  it  arises,  not  from  the  soul,  but  from  the  Lord,  to  Whom 
the  soul  has  given  the  keys  of  its  will,  they  would  not  be  so 
astounded. 

I  believe  myself  that  a  soul  which  attains  to  this  state  neither 
speaks  nor  does  anything  of  itself,  but  that  this  sovereign  King 
takes  care  of  all  that  it  has  to  do.  Oh,  my  God,  how  clear  is 
the  meaning  of  that  verse  about  asking  for  the  wings  of  a  dove2 
and  how  right  the  author  was — and  how  right  we  shall  all  be! — 
to  ask  for  them!  It  is  evident  that  he  is  referring  to  the  flight  taken 
by  the  spirit  when  it  soars  high  above  all  created  things,  and 
above  itself  first  of  all;  but  it  is  a  gentle  and  a  joyful  flight  and 
also  a  silent  one. 

What  power  is  that  of  a  soul  brought  hither  by  the  Lord,  which 
can  look  upon  everything  without  being  ensnared  by  it!  How 
ashamed  it  is  of  the  time  when  it  was  attached  to  everything! 
How  amazed  it  is  at  its  blindness!  How  it  pities  those  who  are 
still  blind,  above  all  if  they  are  persons  of  prayer  to  whom  God 
is  still  granting  favours!  It  would  like  to  cry  aloud  to  them  and 

1  St.  Vincent  Ferrer.  De  Vita  spintualt,  Chap.  XIV.:  "Si  dicerent  tibi  ahquid  quod 
at  contra  fidems  et  contra  Scnpturani  sacrara,  aut  contra  bonos  mores,  abhorreas 
eorum  visionem  et  judicia,  tanquam  stultas  dementias,  et  earum  raptus,  sicut  rabia- 
menta,"  St.  Teresa  could  have  read  this  book  in  a  Spanish  version  published  at 
Toledo  in  1510,  and  reprinted  five  years  later,  in  a  volume  containing  also  the  life 
of  Blessed  Angela  de  Fohgno  and  the  Rule  of  St.  Glare 

*  Psalm  hv.  7  [A.V.  Iv.  6]. 


XX]  LIFE  129 

show  them  how  mistaken  they  are,  and  sometimes  it  does  in  fact 
do  so  and  brings  down  a  thousand  persecutions  upon  its  head. 
Men  think  it  lacking  in  humility  and  suppose  that  it  is  trying 
to  teach  those  from  whom  it  should  learn,  especially  if  the  person 
in  question  is  a  woman.  For  this  they  condemn  it,  and  rightly 
so,  since  they  know  nothing  of  the  force  by  which  it  is  impelled. 
Sometimes  it  cannot  help  itself  nor  endure  failing  to  undeceive 
those  whom  it  loves  and  desires  to  see  set  free  from  the  prison  of 
this  life;  for  it  is  in  a  prison,  nothing  less — and  it  realizes  that  it 
is  nothing  less — that  the  soul  has  itself  been  living. 

It  is  weary  of  the  time  when  it  paid  heed  to  niceties  concern- 
ing its  own  honour,  and  of  the  mistaken  belief  which  it  had  that 
what  the  world  calls  honour  is  really  so.  It  now  knows  that  to 
be  a  sheer  lie  and  a  lie  in  which  we  are  all  living.  It  realizes  that 
genuine  honour  is  not  deceptive,  but  true;  that  it  values  what 
has  worth  and  despises  what  has  none;  for  what  passes  away, 
and  is  not  pleasing  to  God,  is  worth  nothing  and  less  than  nothing.1 
It  laughs  at  itself  and  at  the  time  when  it  set  any  store  by  money 
and  coveted  it;  though  I  do  not  believe  I  ever  had  to  confess  to 
being  covetous  of  money — it  was  quite  bad  enough  that  I  should 
have  set  any  store  by  it  at  all.  If  the  blessing  of  which  I  now  see 
myself  in  possession  could  be  purchased  with  money  I  should  set 
tremendous  store  by  it,  but  it  is  clear  that  this  blessing  is  gained 
by  abandoning  everything. 

What  is  there  that  can  be  bought  with  this  money  which  people 
desire?  Is  there  anything  valuable?  Is  there  anything  lasting? 
If  not,  why  do  we  desire  it?  It  is  but  a  miserable  ease  with  which 
it  provides  us  and  one  that  costs  us  very  dear.  Very  often  it 
provides  hell  for  us;  it  buys  us  eternal  fire  and  endless  affliction. 
Oh,  if  all  would  agree  to  consider  it  as  useless  dross,  how  well 
the  world  would  get  on,  and  how  little  trafficking  there  would 
be !  How  friendly  we  should  all  be  with  one  another  if  nobody 
were  interested  in  money  and  honour!  I  really  believe  this  would 
be  a  remedy  for  everything. 

The  soul  sees  what  blindness  there  is  in  the  world  where 
pleasures  are  concerned  and  how  even  in  this  life  they  purchase 
only  trials  and  unrest.  What  disquiet!  What  discontent!  What 
useless  labour!  Not  only  does  die  soul  perceive  the  cobwebs 
which  disfigure  it  and  its  own  great  faults,  but  so  bright  is  the 
sunlight  that  it  sees  every  little  speck  of  dust,  however  small; 
and  so,  however  hard  a  soul  may  have  laboured  to  perfect  itself, 

1  [Gf.  St.  John  of  the  Cross,  I,  25:  "All  the  creatures  are  nothing;  and  their  affections, 
we  may  say,  are  less  than  nothing.  .  .  .  The  soul  that  sets  its  affections  upon  the  being 
of  creation  is  likewise  nothing  in  the  eyes  of  God,  and  less  than  nothing.**  (Ascent 
of  Mount  Camel,  L  iv.)] 


130  LIFE  [CHAP. 

once  this  Sun  really  strikes  it,  it  sees  that  it  is  wholly  unclean. 
Just  so  the  water  in  a  vessel  seems  quite  clear  when  the  sun  is  not 
shining  upon  it;  but  the  sun  shows  it  to  be  full  of  specks.  This 
comparison  is  literally  exact.  Before  the  soul  had  experienced 
that  state  of  ecstasy,  it  thought  it  was  being  careful  not  to  offend 
God  and  doing  all  that  it  could  so  far  as  its  strength  permitted. 
But  once  it  reaches  this  stage,  the  Sun  of  Justice  strikes  it 
and  forces  it  to  open  its  eyes,  whereupon  it  sees  so  many  of  these 
specks  that  it  would  fain  close  them  again.  For  it  is  not  yet  so 
completely  the  child  of  that  mighty  eagle  that  it  can  look  this  Sun 
full  in  the  face;  nevertheless,  during  the  short  time  that  it  can 
keep  them  open,  it  sees  that  it  is  wholly  unclean.  It  remembers 
the  verse  which  says:  "Who  shall  be  just  in  Thy  presence?"1 
When  it  looks  upon  this  Divine  Sun,  the  brightness  dazzles 
it;  when  it  looks  at  itself,  its  eyes  are  blinded  by  clay.2  The  little 
dove  is  blind.  And  very  often  it  remains  completely  blind, 
absorbed,  amazed,  and  dazzled  by  all  the  wonders  it  sees.  From 
this  it  acquires  true  humility,  which  will  never  allow  it  to  say 
anything  good  of  itself  nor  will  permit  others  to  do  so.3  It  is  the 
Lord  of  the  garden,  and  not  the  soul,  that  distributes  the  fruit 
of  the  garden,  and  so  nothing  remains  in  its  hands,  but  all  the 
good  that  is  in  it  is  directed  towards  God;  if  it  says  anything 
about  itself,  it  is  for  His  glory.  It  knows  that  it  possesses4  nothing 
here;  and,  even  if  it  so  wishes,  it  cannot  ignore  this;  for  it  sees 
it  by  direct  vision,  and,  willy-nilly,  shuts  its  eyes  to  things  of 
the  world,  and  opens  them  to  an  understanding  of  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Continues  and  ends  the  account  of  this  last  degree  of  prayer.  Describes 
the  feelings  of  the  soul  in  this  state  on  its  return  to  life  in  the  world 
and  the  light  which  the  Lord  sheds  for  it  on  the  world's  delusions. 
Contains  good  doctrine. 

Concluding  the  matter  under  discussion,  I  remark  that  in 
this  state  there  is  no  need  for  the  soul  to  give  its  consent:  it  has 

1  [P.  Silverio  supposes  this  to  refer  to  Psalm  cxln.  2  (A.V.,  cxliii.  2) :  "In  thy  sight 
no  man  living  shall  be  justified."  But  the  interrogative  form  suggests  rather  Job 
xxv,  4  ("Can  man  be  justified  compared  with  God?")  or  of  Job  iv.  17  ("Shall 
man  be  justified  in  comparison  of  God?")] 

*  [Bam :  mud,  clay.  Often  used  in  Spanish  as  a  symbol  of  the  earthly  and  material.! 

3  [Cf  Si  John  of  the  Cross,  I,  62,  §  9.] 

*[This  second  uit"  must  refer  to  the  soul  (alma)9  which  is  feminine  in  Spanish. 
P.  Silveno,  however,  has  the  masculine  pronoun  el;  I  follow  earlier  texts,  which  amend 
this  to  dla.] 


XXI]  LIFE  131 

given  it  already  and  knows  that  it  has  surrendered  itself  \villingly 
into  His  hands  and  that  He  cannot  deceive  it  because  He  knows 
all  things.  This  is  not  as  it  is  in  the  world,  where  life  is  foil  of 
delusions  and  deceits;  you  judge  by  the  profession  of  friendship 
which  a  man  makes  that  you  have  gained  his  good  will,  and  then 
realize  that  the  profession  was  a  false  one.  No  one  can  live  amid 
such  worldly  trafficking,  especially  if  he  has  himself  any  interest 
in  the  world.  Blessed  is  the  soul  which  the  Lord  brings  to  an 
understanding  of  the  truth !  Oh,  what  a  state  this  would  be  for 
kings!  How  much  better  it  would  be  for  them  if  they  strove 
after  it  rather  than  after  great  dominion!  What  uprightness 
there  would  be  in  their  kingdoms!  How  many  evils  would  be 
prevented — and  might  have  been  prevented  already!  Here  no 
one  fears  to  lose  life  or  honour  for  the  love  of  God.  How  great 
a  blessing  would  such  a  state  be  for  one  who  is  more  bound 
than  those  beneath  him  to  consider  the  Lord's  honour — kings 
will  always  lead  and  the  people  will  follow!  For  the  sake  of  the 
smallest  increase  in  the  number  of  the  faithful  and  for  the  privilege 
of  affording  heretics  the  smallest  glimmer  of  light,  I  would  give 
up  a  thousand  kingdoms,  and  rightly  so.  For  it  is  a  different 
thing  to  win  a  kingdom  that  shall  have  no  end,  because  a  single 
drop  of  the  water  of  that  kingdom  gives  him  who  tastes  it  a  loath- 
ing for  everything  earthly.  What  will  it  be,  then,  when  the  soul 
is  completely  engulfed  in  such  water? 

O  Lord,  if  Thou  wert  to  give  me  the  vocation  to  proclaim 
this  aloud,  I  should  be  disbelieved,  as  are  many  who  can  speak 
of  it  in  a  way  very  different  from  mine.  But  at  least  I  should 
myself  have  satisfaction.  If  I  could  make  others  understand  a 
single  one  of  these  truths  I  think  I  should  set  little  store  by  my 
own  life.  I  do  not  know  what  I  should  do  afterwards,  for  I  am 
entirely  untrustworthy;  despite  my  being  the  sort  of  person  I 
am,  I  keep  experiencing  strong  and  consuming  impulses  to  say 
this  to  persons  in  authority.  But  as  I  can  do  no  more,  my  Lord,  I 
turn  to  Thee,  to  beg  of  Thee  a  remedy  for  everything,  and  well 
dost  Thou  know  that,  provided  I  remain  in  such  a, state  as  not 
to  offend  Thee,  I  would  very  gladly  strip  myself  of  the  favours 
Thou  hast  granted  me  and  give  them  to  kings;  for  I  know  that,  if 
they  had  them,  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  permit  things 
which  they  permit  now,  or  to  fail  to  possess  the  greatest  blessings. 

O  my  God!  Give  them  to  understand  how  great  are  their 
obligations.  For  Thou  hast  been  pleased  to  single  them  out  on 
earth  in  such  a  way  that,  as  I  have  heard,  when  Thou  dost  remove 
one  of  them,  Thou  even  slowest  signs  in  the  heavens.  Enkindled 
indeed,  is  my  devotion,  O  my  King,  when  I  reflect  that  it  is  Thy 
will  that  this  should  teach  them  that  they  must  imitate  Thee 


132  LIFE  [CHAP. 

in  their  lives,  since  at  their  deaths  there  are  such  signs  in  the 
heavens  as  there  were  when  Thou  Thyself  didst  die. 

I  am  being  very  bold.  Your  Reverence  must  destroy  this  if 
you  think  it  wrong.  But,  believe  me,  I  should  say  it  better  in  the 
very  presence  of  kings  if  I  had  the  opportunity  of  doing  so  or 
thought  they  would  believe  me,  for  I  commend  them  earnestly 
to  God  and  wish  that  I  might  be  of  some  profit  to  them.  All 
this  prompts  one  to  risk  one's  life  (and  I  often  wish  I  could  lose 
mine) :  for  the  risk  would  be  a  small  one  to  run  for  so  great  a  gain, 
and  life  becomes  hardly  possible  when  with  one's  own  eyes  one 
sees  the  great  delusion  in  which  we  are  walking  and  the  blind 
way  in  which  we  act. 

When  a  soul  has  reached  this  state,  it  has  not  merely  desires 
to  serve  God:  His  Majesty  also  gives  it  strength  to  carry  these 
desires  into  effect.  No  way  in  which  it  thinks  it  may  serve  God 
can  be  set  before  it  into  which  it  will  not  fling  itself;  and  yet  it 
is  doing  nothing,  because,  as  I  say,  it  sees  clearly  that  nothing 
is  of  any  value  save  pleasing  God.  The  trouble  is  that  no  such 
task  presents  itself  to  people  who  are  as  worthless  as  I.  May  it 
be  Thy  pleasure,  my  God,  that  the  time  may  come  in  which  I 
shall  be  able  to  pay  at  least  a  few  mites1  of  all  I  owe  Thee;  do 
Thou  ordain  it,  Lord,  according  to  Thy  pleasure,  that  this  Thy 
handmaiden  may  in  some  way  serve  Thee.  There  have  been 
other  women  who  have  done  heroic  deeds  for  love  of  Thee.  I 
myself  am  fit  only  to  talk,  and  therefore,  my  God,  it  is  not  Thy 
good  pleasure  to  test  me  by  actions.  All  my  will  to  serve  Thee 
peters  out  in  words  and  desires,  and  even  here  I  have  no  freedom, 
for  it  is  always  possible  that  I  may  fail  altogether. 

Do  Thou  strengthen  and  prepare  my  soul  first  of  all,  Good 
of  all  good,  my  Jesus,  and  do  Thou  then  ordain  means  whereby 
I  may  do  something  for  Thee,  for  no  one  could  bear  to  receive  as 
much  as  I  have  done  and  pay  nothing  in  return.  Cost  what  it 
may,  Lord,  permit  me  not  to  come  into  Thy  presence  with  such 
empty  hands,  since  a  man's  reward  must  be  in  accordance  with 
his  works.2  Here  is  my  life;  here  is  my  honour  and  my  will.  I 
have  given  it  all  to  Thee;  I  am  Thine;  dispose  of  me  according 
to  Thy  desire.  Well  do  I  know,  my  Lord,  of  how  little  I  am 
capable.  But  now  that  I  have  approached  Thee,  now  that  I  have 
mounted  this  watch-tower  whence  truths  can  be  seen,  I  shall  be 
able  to  do  all  things  provided  Thou  withdraw  not  from  me. 

1  Algtin  cornado.  The  cornado  was  a  small  copper  com,  worth  about  as  much  as  a 
cuarfo,  or  Tot7  °f  a  peseta.  It  had  come  in  late  in  the  thirteenth  century  and  in  St 
Teresa's  day  was  no  longer  current;  but  it  was  spoken  of  metaphorically,  in  the  sense 
of  "brass  farthing*1  or  "mite",  much  as  the  cuarto  is  now. 

•[Probably  a  reminiscence  of  Apocalypse  ii,  123:  "And  I  will  give  to  every  one  of 
you  according  to  your  works."] 


XXI]  LIFE  133 

Withdraw  Thou,  and,  for  however  short  a  time,  I  shall  go  where 
I  have  already  been — namely,  to  hell. 

Oh,  what  it  is  for  a  soul  which  finds  itself  in  this  state  to  have 
to  return  to  intercourse  with  all,  to  look  at  this  farce  of  a  life  and 
see  how  ill-organized  it  is,  to  spend  its  time  in  meeting  the  needs 
of  the  body,  in  sleeping  and  in  eating.  It  is  wearied  by  every- 
thing; it  cannot  run  away;  it  sees  itself  chained  and  captive; 
and  it  is  then  that  it  feels  most  keenly  the  imprisonment  into  which 
we  are  led  by  our  bodies  and  the  misery  of  this  life.  It  under- 
stands why  Saint  Paul  besought  God  to  deliver  him  from  it;1  it 
joins  its  cries  to  his;  and,  23  I  have  said  on  other  occasions,  it 
begs  God  for  freedom.  But  in  this  state  it  often  cries  with  such 
vehemence  that  it  seems  as  if  the  soul  is  desirous  of  leaving  the 
body  and  going  in  search  of  that  freedom,  since  no  one  is  delivering 
it.  It  wanders  about  like  one  who  has  been  sold  into  a  strange 
land;  its  chief  trouble  is  finding  so  few  to  join  in  its  complaints 
and  prayers,  since  as  a  rule  men  desire  to  live.  Oh,  were  we  but 
completely  detached  and  were  our  happiness  not  fixed  on  things 
of  earth,  how  the  distress  caused  us  by  living  all  the  time  without 
God  would  temper  our  fear  of  death  with  the  desire  to  enjoy  true 
life! 

I  sometimes  wonder,  if  a  woman  like  myself,  to  whom  the 
Lord  has  given  this  light,  but  whose  charity  is  so  lukewarm  and 
whose  works  have  not  won  for  her  any  certainty  of  true  rest,  is 
nevertheless  so  often  sad  at  finding  herself  in  this  exile,  what  the 
sorrow  of  the  saints  must  have  been.  What  must  Saint  Paul  and  the 
Magdalen  have  suffered,  and  others  like  them,  in  whom  this  fire 
of  the  love  of  God  burned  so  vehemently?  Their  sufferings  must 
have  been  one  continuous  martyrdom.  I  think  any  relief  I  obtain, 
and  any  desire  I  have  for  intercourse  with  others,  is  due  to  my 
finding  people  with  these  desires — I  mean  desires  coupled  with 
works.  I  say  "with  works"  because  there  are  people  who  think 
and  proclaim  themselves  to  be  detached — and  who  must  be  so, 
for  it  is  required  by  their  vocation  and  certified  by  the  many 
years  that  have  passed  since  some  of  them  began  to  walk  in  the 
way  of  perfection.  Yet  this  soul  of  mine  can  distinguish  from  a 
long  way  off,  and  quite  clearly,  those  who  are  detached  only  in 
word,  and  whose  words  are  confirmed  by  their  works;  for  it 
knows  how  little  good  is  done  by  the  one  class  and  how  much  by 
the  other;  and  this  is  a  thing  which  can  be  very  clearly  discerned 
by  anyone  with  experience. 

We  have  now  described  the  effects  proceeding  from  raptures 
which  come  from  the  Spirit  of  God.  It  is  true  that  some  of  these 

1  Romans  vii,  24*  "Unhappy  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body 
of  this  death?*' 


134  LIFE  [CHAP. 

are  greater  and  some  less:  by  "less"  I  mean  that,  although  these 
effects  are  produced,  they  are  not  at  first  expressed  in  works  and 
it  may  not  become  evident  that  the  soul  has  them.  Perfection, 
too,  has  to  grow;  the  cobwebs  have  to  be  brushed  away  from  the 
memory;  and  this  takes  some  time.  And  the  more  love  and  humil- 
ity grow  in  the  soul,  the  greater  is  the  fragrance  yielded  by  these 
flowers  of  the  virtues  for  the  benefit  both  of  the  soul  itself  and  of 
others.  The  fact  is  that,  during  one  of  these  raptures,  the  Lord 
can  work  in  the  soul  in  such  a  way  that  there  remains  little  for  it 
to  do  in  order  to  acquire  perfection.  For,  except  by  experience, 
no  one  will  ever  believe  what  the  Lord  bestows  on  the  soul  here; 
no  efforts  of  ours,  in  my  opinion,  can  acquire  it.  I  do  not  mean 
that  those  who  work  hard  for  many  years,  in  the  ways  described 
by  writers  on  prayer,  following  their  principles  and  using  their 
methods,  will  not,  after  much  labour,  and  with  the  help  of  the 
Lord,  attain  to  detachment  and  perfection.  But  they  will  not  do  so 
as  speedily  as  by  means  of  raptures,  in  which  the  Lord  works 
without  our  collaboration  and  draws  the  soul  away  from  the  earth 
and  gives  it  dominion  over  all  earthly  things,  although  there  may 
be  no  more  merits  in  such  a  soul  than  there  were  in  mine — and 
I  cannot  say  more  than  that,  for  I  had  hardly  any. 

The  reason  His  Majesty  does  this  is  that  it  is  His  will,  and  it  is 
according  as  He  wills  that  He  does  it;  and,  though  the  soul  may 
not  be  prepared,  His  Majesty  prepares  it  to  receive  the  blessing 
which  He  is  giving  it.  Although  He  most  certainly  never  fails 
to  comfort  those  who  make  proper  preparation  and  strive  after 
detachment,  He  does  not  always  bestow  blessings  because  the 
recipients  have  deserved  them  by  cultivating  tKeir  garden.  It  is 
sometimes  His  will,  as  I  have  said,  to  manifest  His  greatness  in  the 
worst  kind  of  soil;  He  prepares  it  for  every  blessing,  so  that  it 
seems  almost  as  if  it  would  be  impossible  for  the  soul  to  return 
to  the  life  of  sin  against  God  which  it  had  lived  previously.  Its 
mind  is  now  so  used  to  thinking  upon  eternal  truth  that 
anything  else  seems  to  it  mere  child's  play.  It  sometimes  enjoys 
a  quiet  laugh  when  it  sees  serious  people — men  of  prayer,  leading 
the  religious  life — making  a  great  fuss  about  niceties  concerning 
their  honour,  which  it  has  long  since  trampled  beneath  its  feet. 
They  say  that  discretion  demands  this  and  that  the  more  they  have 
of  the  authority  due  to  their  positions  the  more  good  they  can  do. 
But  the  soul  knows  very  well  that  if  they  subordinated  the  author- 
ity due  to  their  positions  to  the  love  of  God  they  would  do  more 
good  in  a  day  than  they  are  likely  to  do  as  it  is  in  ten  years. 

So  the  life  of  this  soul  continues — a  troubled  life,  never  without 
its  crosses,  but  a  life  of  great  growth.  Those  with  Vhom  the  soul 
has  to  do  keep  thinking  it  has  reached  its  summit,  but  soon  after- 


XXI]  LIFE  135 

wards  they  find  it  higher  still,  for  God  is  always  giving  it  new 
favours.  It  is  God  Who  is  the  soul  of  that  soul;  and,  as  He  has  it  in 
His  keeping.  He  sheds  His  light  upon  it.  He  seems  to  be  continually 
watching  over  it,  lest  it  should  offend  Him,  and  assisting  and 
awakening  it  to  serve  Him.  When  my  soul  reached  the  point  at 
which  God  began  to  grant  me  this  great  favour,  my  troubles 
ceased,  and  the  Lord  gave  me  strength  to  escape  from  them. 
Meeting  occasions  of  sin  and  being  with  people  who  were  wont 
to  distract  me  had  now  no  more  effect  upon  me  than  if  they  had 
not  been  there.  Indeed,  what  had  previously  been  apt  to  harm 
me  now  became  a  help  to  me;  everything  was  a  means  by  which 
I  was  enabled  to  know  and  love  God  the  better,  to  realize  what  I 
owed  Him  and  to  be  grieved  at  having  been  what  I  once  was. 

I  knew  quite  well  that  none  of  this  was  due  to  myself  and  that 
I  had  not  won  it  by  my  own  efforts,  for  there  had  not  been  time 
enough  for  me  to  do  that.  His  Majesty  had  given  me  the  needful 
strength  out  of  His  own  goodness.  From  the  time  when  the  Lord 
began  to  grant  me  the  favour  of  these  raptures,  until  now,  this 
strength  has  continued  to  increase,  and  God  of  His  goodness 
has  held  me  by  His  hand  so  that  I  should  not  turn  back.  This 
being  so,  I  realize  that  I  am  doing  hardly  anything  of  myself;  I 
understand  clearly  that  it  is  all  the  work  of  the  Lord.  I  think, 
therefore,  that  souls  on  whom  the  Lord  bestows  these  favours, 
and  who  walk  in  humility  and  fear,  ever  realizing  that  all  is  due  to 
the  Lord  Himself  and  in  no  wise  to  our  efforts,  may  safely  mix 
with  any  kind  of  company  whatsoever.  However  distracting 
and  vicious  such  company  may  be,  it  will  have  no  effect  on  them 
nor  will  it  in  any  way  move  them;  on  the  contrary,  as  I  have  said, 
it  will  help  them  and  be  a  means  whereby  they  may, Derive  the 
greater  profit.  It  is  strong  souls  that  are  chosen  by  the  Lord  to 
profit  others,  though  their  strength  does  not  come  from  themselves. 
For,  when  the  Lord  brings  a  soul  to  this  state,  He  gradually 
communicates  to  it  very  great  secrets. 

In  this  state  of  ecstasy  occur  true  revelations,  great  favours 
and  visions,  all  of  which  are  of  service  in  humbling  and  strength- 
ening the  soul  and  helping  it  to  despise  the  things  of  this  life  and 
to  gain  a  clearer  knowledge  of  the  reward  which  the  Lord  has 
prepared  for  those  who  serve  Him.  May  it  please  His  Majesty 
that  the  immense  bounty  with  which  He  has  treated  this  miserable 
sinner  may  do  something  to  influence  those  who  read  this,  so  that 
they  may  find  strength  and  courage  to  give  up  absolutely  every- 
thing for  God's  sake !  If  His  Majesty  requites  us  so  amply  that  even 
in  this  life  we  have  a  clear  vision  of  the  reward  and  the  gain  of 
those  who  serve  Him,  what  will  He  not  do  in  the  life  to  come? 


136  LIFE  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Describes  how  safe  a  practice  it  is  for  contemplatives  not  to  uplift  their  spirits 
to  lofty  things  if  they  are  not  so  uplifted  by  the  Lord,  and  how  the  path 
leading  to  the  most  exalted  contemplation  must  be  the  Humanity  of 
Christ.  Tells  of  an  occasion  on  which  she  was  herself  deceived. 
This  chapter  is  very  profitable. 

There  is  one  thing  that  I  want  to  say,  if  Your  Reverence  thinks 
it  well  that  I  should  do  so,  as  in  my  opinion  it  is  important. 
It  will  serve  as  what  may  be  necessary  advice ;  for  there  are  some 
books  written  about  prayer  which  say  that,  although  of  itself  the 
soul  cannot  reach  this  state,  since  the  work  wrought  in  it  by  the 
Lord  is  entirely  supernatural,  it  can  get  some  way  towards  it  by 
raising  the  spirit  above  all  created  things  and  causing  it  to  rise  aloft 
in  humility  after  it  has  spent  some  years  in  the  Purgative  life  and 
made  progress  in  the  Illuminative.  I  do  not  know  why  they  call 
it  Illuminative  but  I  understand  it  to  mean  the  life  of  those  who 
are  making  progress.  And  these  books  advise  us  earnestly  to  put 
aside  all  corporeal  imagination  and  to  approach  the  contem- 
plation of  the  Divinity.  For  they  say  that  anything  else,  even 
Christ's  Humanity,  will  hinder  or  impede  those  who  have  arrived 
so  far  from  attaining  to  the  most  perfect  contemplation.  They 
quote  the  words  of  the  Lord  on  this  subject  to  the  Apostles  with 
regard  to  the  coming  of  the  Holy  Spirit1 — I  mean,  after  He  had 
ascended  into  Heaven.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  if  they  had  then 
had  faith,  as  they  had  after  the  Holy  Spirit  came,  to  believe  that 
He  was  God  and  Man,  it  would  have  been  no  hindrance  to  them ; 
for  this  was  not  said  to  the  Mother  of  God,  though  she  loved  Him 
more  than  all  the  rest.2  But  these  writers  think  that,  as  this  work 
is  entirely  spiritual,  anything  corporeal  may  disturb  or  impede  it, 
and  that  what  contemplatives  must  contrive  to  do  is  to  think  of 
themselves  as  circumscribed,  but  of  God  as  being  everywhere, 
so  that  they  may  become  absorbed  in  Him.  It  will  be  all  right, 
I  think,  to  do  this  sometimes,  but  I  cannot  bear  the  idea  that  we 
must  withdraw  ourselves  entirely  from  Christ  and  treat  that 
Divine  Body  of  His  as  though  it  were  on  a  level  with  our  miseries 

1  [Presumably  St.  John  xvi.  7-14  is  meant  The  Spanish  has  "at  the  time  of" 
for  "with  regard  to"  and  the  "had"  which  follows  is  in  the  indicative  mood,  gram- 
matically, therefore,  the  sense  of  the  passage  is  that  the  words  were  spoken  after 
the  Holy  Spirit  had  come.  No  doubt  this  was  an  inadvertence  on  the  part  of  the 
author.] 

*  The  passage  "But  it  seems  to  me  .  .  .  all  the  rest"  was  inserted  by  the  author 
in  the  margin  of  the  autograph. 


XXII]  LIFE  137 

and  with  all  created  things.  May  His  Majesty  grant  me  the 
ability  to  explain  myself.1 

I  do  not  contradict  this  view,  for  it  is  held  by  learned  and 
spiritual  men,  who  know  what  they  are  saying,  and  God  leads 
souls  along  many  roads  and  by  many  ways,  as  He  has  led  mine. 
It  is  of  mine  that  I  now  wish  to  speak,  without  interfering  with  the 
souls  of  others,  and  of  the  danger  in  which  I  found  myself  through 
trying  to  fall  into  line  with  what  I  read.  I  can  well  believe  that 
anyone  who  attains  to  union  and  goes  no  farther — I  mean,  to 
raptures  and  visions  and  other  favours  granted  to  souls  by  God — 
will  thinjc  that  view  to  be  the  best,  as  I  did  myself.  But  if  I  had 
acted  upon  it,  I  do  not  think  I  should  ever  have  reached  my 
present  state,  for  I  believe  it  to  be  mistaken.  It  may,  of  course, 
be  I  who  am  mistaken — but  I  will  relate  what  happened  to  me. 

As  I  had  no  director,  I  used  to  read  these  books,  and  gradually 
began  to  think  I  was  learning  something.  I  found  out  later  that, 
if  the  Lord  had  not  taught  me,  I  could  have  learned  little  from 
books,  for  until  His  Majesty  taught  it  me  by  experience  what  I 
learned  was  nothing  at  all;  I  did  not  even  know  what  I  was  doing. 
When  I  began  to  gain  some  experience  of  supernatural  prayer — 
I  mean  of  the  Prayer  of  Quiet — I  tried  to  put  aside  everything 
corporeal,  though  I  dared  not  lift  up  my  soul,  for,  being  always 
so  wicked,  I  saw  that  to  do  this  would  be  presumption.  But  I 
thought  I  was  experiencing  the  presence  of  God,  as  proved  to  be 
true,  and  I  contrived  to  remain  with  Him  in  a  state  of  recollection. 
This  type  of  prayer,  if  God  has  a  part  in  it,  is  full  of  delight,  and 
brings  great  joy.  -  And  in  view  of  the  advantage  I  was  deriving 
from  it  and  the  pleasure  it  was  bringing  me,  no  one  could  have 
made  me  return  to  meditation  on  the  Humanity — on  the  con- 
trary, this  really  seemed  to  me  a  hindrance.  O  Lord  of  my  soul 
and  my  Good,  Jesus  Christ  crucified!  Never  once  do  I  recall  this 
opinion  which  I  held  without  a  feeling  of  pain:  I  believe  I  was 
committing  an  act  of  high  treason,  though  I  committed  it  in 
ignorance. 

All  my  life  I  had  been  greatly  devoted  to  Christ  (for  this 
happened  quite  recently:  by  "recently"  I  mean  before  the  Lord 
granted  me  these  favours — these  raptures  and  visions),2  so  I 
remained  of  this  opinion  only  for  a  very  short  time  and  then 
returned  to  my  habit  of  continually  rejoicing  in  the  Lord. 

1  This  chapter,  which  dwells  on  the  suitability  of  the  Humanity^of  Christ  as  a  sub- 
ject for  meditation,  attacks  an  idea,  very  prevalent  in  St.  Teresa's  time,  that  at  certain 
stages  of  mystical  progress  any  such  "corporeal"  subject,  even  the  mystery  of  Our 
Lord's  Incarnation,  should  be  rigidly  excluded  by  the  contemplative.    All  later 
Spanish  mystics  follow  St.  Teresa  here  and  many  specifically  eulogize  or  embroider 
this  exposition. 

2  "By  *  recently'  .  .   .  visions"  is  a  marginal  addition  in  St.  Teresa's  hand. 


i38  LIFE  [CHAP. 

Especially  when  communicating,  I  would  wish  I  had  His  portrait 
and  image  always  before  my  eyes,  since  I  could  not  have  it  as 
deeply  engraven  on  my  soul  as  I  should  like.  Is  it  possible,  my 
Lord,  that  for  so  much  as  an  hour  I  could  have  entertained  the 
thought  that  Thou  couldst  hinder  my  greatest  good?  Whence 
have  all  good  things  come  to  me  save  from  Thee?  I  do  not  want 
to  think  that  I  was  to  blame  for  this,  for  I  grieve  greatly  about  it 
and  it  was  certainly  a  matter  of  ignorance.  So  Thou,  in  Thy 
goodness,  wert  pleased  to  bring  it  to  an  end  by  giving  me  one  who 
would  cure  me  of  this  error,1  and  afterwards  by  permitting  me 
often  to  see  Thee,  as  I  shall  relate  hereafter,  so  that  I  might 
clearly  realize  how  great  my  error  was  and  tell  many  people 
of  it,  as  I  have  done,  and  set  it  all  down  here  and  now. 

I  believe  myself  that  this  is  the  reason  why  many  souls,  after 
succeeding  in  experiencing  the  Prayer  of  Union,  do  not  make 
further  progress  and  achieve  a  very  great  spiritual  freedom. 
There  are  two  reasons,  I  think,  on  which  I  can  found  my  opinion; 
there  may,  of  course,  be  nothing  in  it,  but  what  I  say  I  have 
observed  in  my  own  experience,  for  my  soul  was  in  a  very  bad 
way  until  the  Lord  gave  it  light:  all  the  joys  it  had  experienced 
had  come  in  little  sips,  and,  once  these  were  over,  xt  never  ex- 
perienced any  companionship,  as  it  did  later,  at  times  of  trial 
and  temptation.  One  of  these  reasons  is  that  the  soul  is  somewhat 
lacking  in  humility  and  that  what  it  has  is  so  completely  disguised 
and  hidden  as  not  to  be  noticed.  Who  can  there  be,  like  myself, 
so  miserably  proud  that,  when  he  has  laboured  all  his  life  long 
over  every  imaginable  kind  of  penance  and  prayer  and  suffered 
every  kind  of  persecution,  he  does  not  count  himself  very  wealthy 
and  very  abundantly  rewarded  if  the  Lord  allows  him  to  stand 
with  Saint  John,  at  the  foot  of  the  Gross?  I  cannot  imagine  how  it 
can  enter  anyone's  head  not  to  be  contented  with  this;  yet  I 
myself  was  not,  and  I  have  lost  in  every  respect  where  I  ought 
to  have  gained. 

It  may  be  that  our  temperament,  or  some  indisposition,  will  not 
always  allow  us  to  think  of  the  Passion,  because  of  its  painfiilness; 
but  what  can  prevent  us  from  being  with  Him  in  His  Resurrection 
Body,  since  we  have  Him  so  near  us  in  the  Sacrament,  where  He 
is  already  glorified?  Here  we  shall  not  see  Him  wearied  and  broken 
injbody,  streaming  with  blood,  exhausted  by  journeying,  perse- 
cuted by  those  to  whom  He  was  doing  such  good,  disbelieved 
by  the  Apostles,  Certainly  it  is  not  always  that  one  can  bear  to 
think  of  such  great  trials  as  those  which  He  suffered.  But  here 
we  can  behold  Him  free  from  pain,  full  of  glory,  strengthening 
some,  encouraging  others,  ere  He  ascends  to  the  Heavens.  In 

1  [Lewis  (p.  187,  EU  5)  supposes  this  to  be  P.  Juan  de  Pnidanos:  cf.  p.  151,  n.  2  below.] 


XXII]  LIFE  139 

the  Most  Holy  Sacrament  He  is  our  Companion  and  it  would 
seem  impossible  for  Him  to  leave  us  for  a  moment.  And  yet 
it  was  possible  for  me  to  leave  Thee,  my  Lord,  in  the  hope  that 
I  might  serve  Thee  better !  True,  when  I  offended  Thee,  I  knew 
Thee  not,  but  to  think  that,  when  I  did  know  Thee,  I  could 
suppose  it  possible  that  in  such  a  way  I  should  gain  more!  How 
mistaken,  Lord,  was  the  path  I  followed!  Indeed,  I  think  I 
should  be  following  no  path  at  all  hadst  Thou  not  brought  me 
back  to  it.  For  when  I  see  Thee  near  me  I  have  seen  all  blessings. 
No  trial  has  come  to  me  that  I  cannot  gladly  bear  when  I  look 
at  Thee  as  Thou  stoodest  before  Thy  judges.  With  so  good  a  Friend, 
so  good  a  Captain  at  our  side,  Who  came  forward  first  of  all 
to  suffer,  one  can  bear  everything.  He  helps  us;  He  gives  us 
strength;  He  never  fails;  He  is  a  true  Friend. 

I  can  see  clearly,  and  since  that  time  have  always  seen,  that 
it  is  God's  will,  if  we  are  to  please  Him  and  He  is  to  grant  us 
great  favours,  that  this  should  be  done  through  His  most  sacred 
Humanity,  in  Whom,  His  Majesty  said,  He  is  well  pleased.  Very, 
very  many  times  have  I  learned  this  by  experience:  the  Lord  has 
told  it  me.  I  have  seen  clearly  that  it  is  by  this  door  that  we  must 
enter  if  we  wish  His  Sovereign  Majesty  to  show  us  great  secrets. 
Therefore,  Sir,1  even  if  you  reach  the  summit  of  contemplation 
Your  Reverence  must  seek  no  other  way:  that  way  alone  is  safe. 
It  is  through  this  Lord  of  ours  that  all  blessings  come.  He  will 
show  us  the  way;  we  must  look  at  His  life — that  is  our  best  pattern. 
What  more  do  we  need  than  to  have  at  our  side  so  good  a  Friend, 
Who  will  not  leave  us  in  trials  and  tribulations,  as  earthly  friends 
do?  Blessed  is  he  who  loves  Him  in  truth  and  has  Him  always  at 
his  side.  Let  us  consider  the  glorious  Saint  Paul,  from  whose  lips 
the  name  of  Jesus  seems  never  to  have  been  absent,  because  He 
was  firmly  enshrined  in  his  heart.  Since  realizing  this,  I  have 
looked  carefully  at  the  lives  of  a  number  of  saints  who  were  great 
contemplatives  and  I  find  that  they  followed  exactly  the  same  road. 
Saint  Francis,  with  his  stigmata,  illustrates  this,  as  does  Saint 
Anthony  of  Padua  with  the  Divine  Infant.  Saint  Bernard,  too, 
delighted  in  Christ's  Humanity,  and  so  did  Saint  Catherine  of 
Siena  and  many  others  of  whom  Your  Reverence  will  know 
better  than  I. 

This  withdrawal  from  the  corporeal  must  doubtless  be  good,  since 
it  is  advised  by  such  spiritual  people,  but  my  belief  is  that  it  must 
be  practised  only  when  the  soul  is  very  proficient :  until  then,  it  is 
clear,  the  Creator  must  be  sought  through  the  creatures.  All  this 

1  She  seems  to  be  addressing  P.  Garda  de  Toledo  here  and  the  addition  of  "Sir" 
may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  he  was  the  son  of  the  Count  of  Oropesa.  She  uses  the 
same  word  when  writing  to  the  aristocratic  Don  Alvaro  de  Mendoza,  Bishop  of  Avila. 


140  LIFE  [CHAP. 

has  to  do  with  the  grace  which  the  Lord  bestows  on  every  soul: 
into  that  matter  I  will  not  enter.  What  I  should  like  to  make  clear 
is  that  Christ's  most  sacred  Humanity  must  not  be  reckoned 
among  these  corporeal  objects.  Let  that  point  be  clearly  under- 
stood :  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  explain  it. 

When  God  is  pleased  to  suspend  all  the  faculties,  as  we  have 
seen  that  He  does  in  the  modes  of  prayer  already  described,  it  is 
clear  that,  though  we  may  not  desire  it  to  be  so,  this  Presence 
is  taken  from  us.  At  such  a  time  as  that,  let  this  be  done.  Blessed 
is  such  a  loss,  since  it  brings  with  it  the  enjoyment  of  more  than  we 
seem  to  have  sacrificed;  for  the  soul  can  then  employ  itself 
wholly  in  loving  One  Whom  the  understanding  has  been  striving 
hard  to  know;  it  loves  what  it  has  not  comprehended  and  rejoices 
in  that  of  which  it  could  not  have  such  great  fruition  save  by  losing 
itself,  in  order,  as  I  say,  the  better  to  gain  itself.  But  that  we 
should  exert  care  and  skill  to  accustom  ourselves  not  to  endeavour 
with  all  our  strength  to  have  always  before  us — and  the  Lord 
grant  it  be  always ! — this  most  sacred  Humanity,  it  is  that,  I  say, 
which  seems  to  me  not  to  be  right.  The  soul  is  left,  as  the  phrase 
has  it,  in  the  air;  for  it  has  nothing  to  lean  upon,  however  full  it 
may  think  itself  to  be  of  God.  It  is  a  great  thing  for  us,  while  we 
live  as  human  beings,  to  have  before  us  Christ's  Humanity, 
This  is  that  other  inconvenience  to  which  I  have  already  referred. 
The  first,  which  I  was  beginning  to  speak  about  earlier,  is  a  certain 
lack  of  humility,  a  desire  on  the  soul's  part  to  nse  before  the  Lord 
raises  it,  a  dissatisfaction  with  merely  meditating  on  something 
so  precious,  and  a  longing  to  be  Mary  before  one  has  laboured 
with  Martha.  When  the  Lord  wishes  one  to  be  Mary,  there  is  no 
need  for  fear,  even  on  the  very  first  day,  but  we  must  go  carefully 
about  it,  as  I  believe  I  have  said  already.  This  little  mote  of 
deficient  humility,  though  it  seems  to  be  of  no  importance,  does  a 
great  deal  of  harm  to  those  who  wish  to  make  progress  in 
contemplation. 

To  come  now  to  the  second  point:  we  are  not  angels  and  we 
have  bodies.  To  want  to  become  angels  while  we  are  still  on  earth, 
and  as  much  on  earth  as  I  was,  is  ridiculous.  As  a  rule,  our  thoughts 
must  have  something  to  lean  upon,  though  sometimes  the  soul  may 
go  out  from  itself  and  very  often  may  be  so  full  of  God  that  it 
will  need  no  created  thing  to  assist  it  in  recollection.  But  this  is 
not  very  usual:  when  we  are  busy,  or  suffering  persecutions  or 
trials,  when  we  cannot  get  as  much  quiet  as  we  should  like,  and 
at  seasons  of  aridity,  we  have  a  very  good  Friend  in  Christ.  We 
look  at  Him  as  a  Man;  we  think  of  His  moments  of  weakness  and 
times  of  trial;  and  He  becomes  our  Companion.  Once  we  have 
made  a  habit  of  thinking  of  Him  in  this  way,  it  becomes  very  easy 


XXII]  LIFE  141 

to  find  Him  at  our  side,  though  there  will  come  times  when  it  is 
impossible  to  do  either  the  one  thing  or  the  other.  For  that 
reason  it  is  advisable  to  do  as  I  have  already  said:  we  must  not 
show  ourselves  to  be  striving  after  spiritual  consolations;  come 
what  may,  the  great  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  embrace  the  Cross. 
The  Lord  was  deprived  of  all  consolation;  they  left  Him  alone 
in  His  trials.  Let  us  not  leave  Him;  for  His  hand  will  help  us 
to  rise  more  effectually  than  our  own  efforts;  and  He  will  with- 
draw Himself  when  He  sees  that  it  is  good  for  us  and  when  He  is 
pleased  to  draw  the  soul  out  of  itself,  as  I  have  said. 

God  is  well  pleased  to  see  a  soul  humbly  taking  His  Son  as 
Mediator,  and  yet  loving  Him  so  much  that,  even  if  His  Majesty  is 
pleased  to  raise  it  to  the  highest  contemplation,  as  I  have  said, 
it  realizes  its  unworthiness,  and  says  with  Saint  Peter:  ee Depart 
from  me.  Lord,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man."1  I  have  proved  this,  for 
it  is  in  this  way  that  God  has  led  my  soul.  Others,  as  I  have  said, 
will  take  another  and  a  shorter  road.  What  I  have  learned  is  this : 
that  the  entire  foundation  of  prayer  must  be  established  in  humil- 
ity, and  that,  the  more  a  soul  abases  itself  in  prayer,  the  higher 
God  raises  it.  I  do  not  remember  that  He  has  ever  granted  me 
any  of  the  outstanding  favours  of  which  I  shall  speak  later  save 
when  I  have  been  consumed  with  shame  by  realizing  my  own 
wickedness;  and  His  Majesty  has  even  managed  to  help  me  to 
know  myself  by  revealing  to  me  things  which  I  myself  could  nDt 
have  imagined.  I  believe  myself  that,  when  a  soul  does  anything 
to  further  its  own  progress  in  this  Prayer  of  Union,  it  may  seem 
to  be  deriving  some  immediate  benefit  but  will  very  quickly 
fall  again,  because  it  has  not  laid  the  proper  foundations.  Indeed, 
I  fear  it  will  never  attain  to  true  poverty  of  spirit,  which  consists 
in  seeking,  not  comfort  or  pleasure  in  prayer  (for  it  has  already 
abandoned  earthly  comforts  and  pleasures),  but  consolation  in 
trials  for  the  love  of  Him  Who  suffered  trials  all  His  life  long; 
and  we  must  endure  these  trials,  and  be  calm  amidst  aridities, 
though  we  may  feel  some  regret  at  having  to  suffer  them.  They 
should  not  cause  us  the  unrest  and  distress  which  they  cause  some 
people  who  think  that,  if  they  are  not  for  ever  labouring  with  the 
understanding  and  striving  after  feelings  of  devotion,  they  are 
going  completely  astray,  as  if  by  so  labouring  they  were  meriting 
some  great  blessing.  I  do  not  mean  that  these  things  should  not 
be  sought  after,  or  that  we  should  not  be  careful  how  we  approach 
the  presence  of  God,  but  merely  that,  as  I  have  said  elsewhere, 
we  must  not  worry  ourselves  to  death  if  we  cannot  think  one 
single  good  thought.  We  are  unprofitable  servants  :2  what  do  we 
suppose  it  is  in  our  power  to  accomplish? 

1  St.  Luke  v,  8.  *  [St.  Luke  xvii,  10.] 


142  LIFE  [CHAP. 

But  it  is  the  Lord's  will  that  we  should  know  this  and  be  like 
the  little  donkeys  that  draw  the  above-described  water-wheel. 
Though  their  eyes  are  shut  and  they  have  no  idea  what  they  are 
doing,  these  donkeys  will  draw  more  water  than  the  gardener 
can  with  all  his  efforts.  After  placing  ourselves  in  the  hands  of 
God,  we  must  walk  along  this  road  quite  freely.  If  His  Majesty 
is  pleased  to  promote  us  to  be  among  those  of  His  chamber  and 
privy  council,  we  must  go  with  Him  willingly;  if  He  is  not,  we 
must  serve  Him  in  lowly  offices  and  not  sit  down  in  the  best  places, 
as  I  have  said  elsewhere.  God  cares  for  us  better  than  we  can  care 
for  ourselves  and  He  knows  of  what  each  of  us  is  capable.  What  is 
the  use  of  governing  oneself  if  one  has  surrendered  one's  whole 
will  to  God?  In  my  view  this  is  much  less  tolerable  here  than  in 
the  first  degree  of  prayer  and  does  much  greater  harm:  these 
blessings  are  supernatural.  If  a  man  has  a  bad  voice,  however 
often  he  forces  himself  to  sing,  he  will  never  make  it  a  good  one; 
whereas,  if  God  is  pleased  to  give  him  a  good  one,  he  has  no  need 
to  practise  singing.1  Let  us,  then,  continually  beseech  Him  to 
grant  us  favours,  resigned  in  spirit  and  yet  trusting  in  God's 
greatness.  Since  the  soul  is  given  leave  to  sit  at  Christ's  feet,  let  it 
contrive  not  to  stir  thence;  let  it  remain  where  it  will;  and  let 
it  imitate  the  Magdalen,  and,  when  it  is  strong,  God  will  lead 
it  into  the  desert. 

Your  Reverence  must  be  satisfied  with  this  until  you  find 
someone  who  has  more  experience  and  more  knowledge  of  the 
matter  than  I.  When  people  tell  you  that  they  are  beginning  to 
taste  of  God,  do  not  believe  them  if  they  think  they  are  making 
more  progress  and  receiving  more  consolations  by  making  efforts 
of  their  own.  Oh,  how  well  God  can  jreveal  Himself,  when  it  is 
His  will  to  do  so,  without  these  puny  efforts  of  ours !  Do  what  we 
may,  He  transports  the  spirit  as  easily  as  a  giant  might  take  up  a 
straw,  and  it  is  useless  for  us  to  resist  Him.  What  a  strange  kind 
of  belief  is  this,  that,  when  God  has  willed  that  a  toad  should  fly, 
He  should  wait  for  it  to  do  so  by  its  own  efforts.  And  it  seems  to 
me  that  for  our  spirits  to  be  lifted  up  is  a  more  difficult  and 
troublesome  matter  even  than  this  if  God  does  not  lift  them  up 
for  us.  For  they  are  weighed  down  by  the  earth  and  by  a  thousand 
impediments,  and  the  fact  that  they  want  to  fly  is  of  no  help 
to  them;  for,  though  flying  comes  more  naturally  to  them  than 
to  a  toad,  they  are  so  completely  sunk  in  the  mire  that  through 
their  own  fault  they  have  lost  the  ability. 

1  [The  exact  sense  of  this  clause  is  doubtful.  Dor  voces  means  to  cry  or  shout  aloud 
and  the  meaning1  may  well  be  "he  has  no  need  to  .make  a  fuss  about  it".  I  translate 
"practise  singing"  only  out  of  deference  to  the  context.  P.  Silveno  has  "He"  for 
"he" :  if  we  adopt  this,  we  must  read:  "He  [God]  has  no  need  to  proclaim  the  fact." 
But  this  seems  to  me  a  definitely  inferior  interpretation.] 


XXII]  LIFE  14 

I  will  conclude^  then,  by  saying  that,  whenever  we  think  o 
Christ,  we  should  remember  with  what  love  He  has  bestowec 
all  these  favours  upon  us,  and  how  great  is  the  love  which  Goc 
has  revealed  to  us  in  giving  us  such  a  pledge  of  the  love  which  H< 
bears  us;  for  love  begets  love.  And  though  we  may  be  onh 
beginners,  and  very  wicked,  let  us  strive  ever  to  bear  this  in  mine 
and  awaken  our  own  love,  for,  if  once  the  Lord  grants  us  th< 
favour  of  implanting  this  love  in  our  hearts,  everything  will  b< 
easy  for  us  and  we  shall  get  things  done  in  a  very  short  time  anc 
with  very  little  labour.  May  His  Majesty  give  us  this  love,  sina 
He  knows  how  much  we  need  it,  for  the  sake  of  the  love  whicf 
He  bore  us  and  through  His  glorious  Son,  Who  revealed  it  to  us  ai 
such  great  cost  to  Himself.  Amen. 

One  thing  which  I  should  like  to  ask  Your  Reverence  is  this 
How  is  it,  when  the  Lord  begins  to  grant  a  soul  such  sublime 
favours  as  that  of  bringing  it  to  perfect  contemplation,  that  il 
does  not,  as  by  rights  it  should,  become  perfect  all  at  once?  B) 
rights  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  should,  for  anyone  who  receives 
so  great  a  favour  ought  not  to  seek  any  further  comforts  on  earth, 
Why  is  it,  then,  that  raptures,  and  the  soul's  growing  habituation 
to  the  receiving  of  favours,  seem  to  produce  results  of  great  and 
growing  sublimity — and  the  more  detached  the  soul  becomes 
the  sublimer  they  are — when  the  Lord  might  leave  the  sou] 
completely  sanctified  in  the  same  moment  that  He  comes  to  it? 
How  is  it  that  it  is  only  later,  as  time  goes  on,  that  the  same  Lord 
leaves  it  perfect  in  the  virtues?  I  want  to  know  the  reason  of  this, 
for  I  am  quite  ignorant  of  it.  What  I  do  know  is  that  there  is  a 
great  difference  between  the  degree  of  fortitude  bestowed  by  God 
in  the  early  stages  of  rapture,  when  this  favour  lasts  no  longer 
than  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  and,  save  for  the  effects  which  it 
leaves,  is  hardly  noticed,  and  in  the  later  stages,  when  it  is 
bestowed  in  more  bountiful  measure.  And  I  often  think  that  the 
reason  may  be  that  the  soul  does  not  at  once  completely  prepare 
itself  for  this,  but  that  the  Lord  gradually  trains  it,  and  gives  it 
determination  and  manly  strength  so  that  it  may  trample  every- 
thing under  its  feet.  It  was  thus  that  He  dealt  with  the  Magda- 
len, doing  His  work  in  her  very  quickly;  and  it  is  thus  that  He 
deals  with  other  people,  according  to  the  way  in  which  they  allow 
His  Majesty  to  work.  We  cannot  bring  ourselves  to  realize  that 
even  in  this  life  God  rewards  us  a  hundredfold. 

I  have  also  been  thinking  of  the  comparison  which  follows. 
Assuming  that  what  is  given  to  the  most  advanced  soul  is  the  same 
as  what  is  given  to  beginners,  it  is  like  food  shared  by  many  people; 
those  Who  eat  very  little  of  it  experience  the  pleasant  taste  only 
for  a  short  time;  those  who  eat  more  derive  some  sustenance 


144  LIFE  [CHAP. 

from  it;  while  those  who  eat  a  great  deal  derive  life  and  strength. 
It  is  possible  to  eat  of  this  food  of  life  so  frequently  and  with  such 
satisfaction  as  to  derive  no  pleasure  from  eating  any  other. 
For  the  soul  sees  how  much  good  it  is  deriving  from  it  and  its 
palate  is  now  so  completely  accustomed  to  its  sweetness  that  it 
would  rather  not  live  than  have  to  eat  any  other  food,  for  that 
would  do  nothing  but  spoil  the  pleasant  taste  left  by  the  good  food. 
Again,  the  companionship  of  good  people  does  not  afford  us  such 
profitable  conversation  in  one  day  as  in  many;  and  if  we  have  the 
help  of  God  and  are  long  enough  in  their  company,  we  may 
become  like  them.  In  fact,  everything  depends  upon  His  Majesty's 
good  pleasure  and  upon  the  person  on  whom  He  wishes  to  bestow 
this  favour.  But  it  is  very  important  that  anyone  who  is  beginning 
to  receive  it  should  resolve  to  detach  himself  from  everything 
else  and  hold  it  in  due  esteem. 

I  think,  too,  that  His  Majesty  goes  about  seeking  to  prove 
who  the  people  are  that  love  Him — whether  this  person  does, 
or  that  person — and  reveals  Himself  to  us  with  the  sublimest 
joy,  so  as  to  quicken  our  faith,  if  it  is  dead,  concerning  what  He 
will  give  us.  "See,"  He  says,  "this  is  but  a  drop  in  a  vast  sea  of 
blessings";  for  He  leaves  nothing  undone  for  those  He  loves,  and, 
when  He  sees  that  they  accept  His  gifts,  He  gives — and  gives 
Himself.  He  loves  every  one  who  loves  Him — and  how  well  loved 
He  is1  and  how  good  a  Friend!  Oh,  Lord  of  my  soul,  if  only 
one  had  words  to  explain  what  Thou  givest  to  those  that  trust  in 
Thee,  and  what  is  lost  by  those  who  reach  this  state  and  yet  do 
not  give  themselves  to  Thee!2  It  is  not  Thy  will,  Lord,  that  this 
should  be  so,  for  Thou  doest  more  than  this  when  Thou  comest  to 
a  lodging  as  wretched  as  mine.  Blessed  be  Thou  for  ever  and  ever! 

I  beseech  Your  Reverence  once  more,  if  you  discuss  these 
things  that  I  have  written  about  prayer  with  spiritual  persons, 
to  be  sure  they  are  really  spiritual.  For  if  they  know  only  one 
path,  or  have  gone  half  way  and  then  remained  where  they  are, 
they  will  not  be  able  to  discover  what  it  all  means.  There  are 
some,  of  course,  whom  God  leads  by  a  very  exalted  road;  and 
these  think  that  others  can  make  progress  in  the  same  way — by 
quieting  the  understanding  and  making  no  use  of  corporeal  aids 
to  devotion — but  if  such  persons  act  thus  they  will  remain  as  dry 
as  sticks.  There  are  others  who  have  attained  a  certain  degree 
of  quiet  and  at  once  think  that,  as  they  have  done  this,  they  can 
do  everything  else.  But,  instead  of  gaining  in  this  way,  they  will 
lose,  as  I  have  said.  So  experience  and  discretion  are  necessary 
in  everything.  May  the  Lord  give  us  these  of  His  goodness. 

1  [Or,  "and  how  well  loved  is  he  who  loves  Him  .  .  . !"] 
*[Lit.:  "and  keep  themselves  (to  themselves)."] 


XXIII]  LIFE  145 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Resumes  the  description  of  the  course  of  her  life  and  tells  how  and  by  what 

means  she  began  to  aim  at  greater  perfection.    It  is  of  advantage 

for  persons  who  are  concerned  in  the  direction  of  souls  that  practise 

prayer  to  know  how  they  must  conduct  themselves  in  the  early  stages. 

The  profit  that  she  herself  gained  thereby. 


now  return  to  the  place  where  I  left  off  the  description  of 
my  life,  for  I  have  digressed  —  longer,  I  think,  than  I  ought  — 
in  order  that  what  is  to  come  may  be  the  better  understood. 
From  this  point  onward,  I  am  speaking  of  another  and  a  new 
book  —  I  mean,  of  another  and  a  new  life.  Until  now  the  life  I 
was  describing  was  my  own;  but  the  life  I  have  been  living  since 
I  began  to  expound  these  matters  concerning  prayer  is  the  life 
which  God  has  been  living  in  me  —  or  so  it  has  seemed  to  me.  For 
I  believe  it  to  be  impossible  in  so  short  a  time  to  escape  from  such 
wicked  deeds  and  habits.  Praised  be  the  Lord,  Who  has  delivered 
me  from  myself! 

Now  when  I  began  to  avoid  occasions  of  sin  and  to  devote 
myself  more  to  prayer,  the  Lord  began  to  bestow  favours  upon 
me  and  it  looked  as  though  He  were  desirous  that  I  should  wish 
to  receive  them.  His  Majesty  began  to  grant  me  quite  frequently 
the  Prayer  of  Quiet,  and  often,  too,  the  Prayer  of  Union,  which 
lasted  for  a  long  time.  As  there  have  been  cases  recently  in  which 
women  have  been  subjected  by  the  devil  to  serious  illusions  and 
deceptions,1  1  began  to  be  afraid,  for  the  delight  and  the  sweetness 
which  I  felt  were  so  great  and  often  I  could  not  help  feeling  them. 
But  on  the  other  hand  I  was  conscious  of  a  very  deep  inward 
assurance  that  this  was  of  God,  especially  when  I  was  engaged  in 
prayer,  and  I  found  that  I  was  the  better  for  it  and  developed 
greater  fortitude.  But  as  soon  as  I  became  a  little  distracted,  I 
would  grow  afraid  again  and  begin  to  wonder  if  it  was  the  devil 
who  wanted  to  suspend  my  understanding,  and  make  me  believe 
it  was  a  good  thing,  so  that  he  might  deprive  me  of  mental 
prayer,  and  prevent  me  from  thinking  of  the  Passion  and  making 
use  of  my  understanding.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  losing  rather 
than  gaining,  but  I  did  not  understand  the  matter  properly. 

As  His  Majesty,  however,  was  now  pleased  to  give  me  light  so 
that  I  should  not  offend  Him  and  should  understand  how  much 

1  Such  were  the  notorious  Sor  Magdalena  de  la  Cruz  of  Cordoba  [and  Maria  de  la 
Visitacion,  the  Lisbon  prioress  who  was  credited  with  having  received  the  Stigmata; 
cf.  SSJVf.,!,  37-8]. 


146  LIFE  [CHAP. 

I  owed  Him,  my  fear  increased,  to  such  an  extent  that  it  made  me 
seek  diligently  after  spiritual  persons  with  whom  to  discuss  this. 
I  already  knew  of  some,  for  the  Fathers  of  the  Company  of  Jesus 
had  come  here,1  and,  though  I  was  unacquainted  with  any  of 
them,  I  was  attracted  to  them  by  my  knowledge  of  their  method 
of  life  and  prayer  alone.  But  I  did  not  consider  myself  ^  worthy 
to  speak  to  them  or  strong  enough  to  obey  them,  and  this  made 
me  still  more  afraid;  for  I  felt  that  it  would  be  unthinkable2 
foi  rne  to  discuss  these  matters  with  them  and  yet  remain  as  I  was. 

I  went  on  for  some  time  in  this  way,  until,  after  experiencing 
much  inward  strife  and  many  fears,  I  determined  to  have  a 
talk  with  a  spiritual  person,  to  ask  him  what  that  kind  of  prayer 
was  which  I  was  practising  and  to  make  it  clear  to  me  if  I  was 
going  astray.  I  also  determined  to  do  all  I  could  not  to  offend 
God,  for,  as  I  have  said,  my  lack  of  fortitude,  of  which  I  was  so 
conscious,  made  me  very  timid.  God  help  me,  what  a  great 
mistake  I  was  making  by  giving  up  what  was  good  when  I  wanted 
to  be  good  all  the  time!  The  devil  must  think  this  very  important 
at  the  outset  of  a  soul's  growth  in  virtue,  for  I  was  quite  unable 
to  take  myself  in  hand.3  He  knows  that  the  great  means  of 
progress  for  a  soul  is  converse  with  friends  of  God,  and  thus 
it  was  for  this  reason  that  I  could  not  come  to  a  decision.  First 
of  all,  I  waited  till  I  had  amended  my  life,  just  as  I  had  done 
when  I  gave  up  prayer.  It  may  be  that  I  should  never  have 
amended  it,  for  I  was  such  a  slave  to  my  little  bad  habits  that  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  realize  that  they  were  bad  at  all :  I 
needed  the  help  of  others,  who  would  take  me  by  the  hand  and 
raise  me  up.  Blessed  be  the  Lord  that,  in  the  end,  the  first  hand 
to  raise  me  was  His ! 

When  I  found  that  my  fear  was  getting  such  a  hold  over  me, 
because  I  was  progressing  in  the  practice  of  prayer,  it  seemed  to 
me  that  there  must  either  be  something  very  good  about  this  or 
something  terribly  bad;  for  I  was  quite  sure  that  my  experiences 
were  supernatural  because  sometimes  I  was  unable  to  resist 
them,  nor  could  I  come  by  them  whenever  I  wanted  to.  I 
thought  to  myself  that  there  was  nothing  I  could  do  but  keep  a 
clear  conscience  and  avoid  all  occasions  of  even  venial  sin; 
for,  if  it  was  the  Spirit  of  God  at  work,  I  was  obviously  the  gainer, 
whereas,  if  it  was  the  devil,  he  could  do  me  little  harm  provided 

l  Itwasin  1554  that  the  Society  of Jesus  founded  the  College  of  St.  Giles  (San  Gil)  at 
Avila,  to  which  foundation  St.  Teresa  owed  a  great  deal  of  the  spiritual  help  which  she 
received  from  the  Jesuit  Fathers. 

8  [Cosa  recta.  Lit. :  "a  stout  (tough,  hard)  thing  "  As  we  might  savin  conversation: 
"A  little  too  strong."] 

3  [Aea&urto  conmtgo.  A  stronger  rendering,  such  as  "put  an  end  to  it  all'%  would 
not  be  out  of  place.] 


XXIII]  LIFE  147 

I  strove  to  please  the  Lord  and  not  to  offend  Him — in  fact,  the 
devil  could  not  fail  to  be  the  loser.  Having  resolved  upon  this, 
and  begging  God  all  the  time  to  help  me,  I  strove  for  some  days 
to  live  in  this  way,  but  found  that  my  soul  was  not  strong  enough 
by  itself  to  achieve  such  a  high  degree  of  perfection;  for  I  was 
attached  in  certain  ways  to  things  which,  though  not  wrong  in 
themselves,  were  sufficient  to  spoil  all  my  efforts. 

They  told  me  of  a  learned  cleric  who  lived  in  that  place,  and 
whose  goodness  and  holy  life  the  Lord  was  beginning  to  make 
known  among  the  people.1  I  got  to  know  him  through  a  saintly 
gentleman  who  lived  there  also.2  This  gentleman  is  married, 
but  his  life  is  so  exemplary  and  virtuous,  and  so  outstanding  in 
prayer  and  charity,  that  everything  he  does  is  resplendent  with 
his  goodness  and  perfection.  And  with  good  reason,  for  many 
souls  have  been  greatly  benefited  by  him:  such  great  talents 
has  he  that,  although  his  being  married  is  anything  but  a  help 
to  him,  he  cannot  do  otherwise  than  use  them.  He  is  a  man  of 
great  intelligence,  and  very  gentle  with  everybody;  and  his 
conversation  is  never  wearisome,  but  so  pleasant  and  gracious, 
not  to  say  upright  and  holy,  that  it  gives  great  delight  to  those 
with  whom  he  has  to  do.  He  directs  all  he  does  to  the  great  good 
of  the  souls  with  whom  he  holds  converse  and  he  seems  to  have  no 
other  aim  than  to  do  whatever  he  can  for  everyone  he  meets 
and  to  give  everyone  pleasure. 

Well,  so  diligent  on  my  behalf  was  this  blessed  and  holy  man 
that  he  seems  to  me  to  have  been  the  beginning  of  my  soul's 
salvation.  The  humility  he  has  shown  me  is  astounding;  for 
he  has  practised  prayer,  I  believe,  for  nearly  forty  years — perhaps 
two  or  three  years  less — and  the  life  he  lives,  I  think,  is  as  nearly 
perfect  as  his  married  state  permits.  His  wife,  too,  is  so  great  a 
servant  of  God  and  so  charitable  a  woman  that  she  is  no  hindrance 
to  him:  indeed,  she  was  chosen  to  be  the  wife  of  one  who  God 
knew  would  be  a  great  servant  of  His. 

Some  of  their  relatives  were  married  to  some  of  mine3  and 
I  also  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  another  great  servant  of  God  who 
was  married  to  one  of  my  cousins.  It  was  in  this  way  that  I 
arranged  for  this  cleric  who,  as  I  say,  was  such  a  servant  of  God 
to  come  to  speak  with  me:  he  was  a  great  friend  of  this  gentle- 
man and  I  thought  of  having  him  as  my  confessor  and  director. 

1  This  was  Caspar  Daza,  a  pious  and  learned  priest  who  for  some  time  was  St. 
Teresa's  confessor  and  helped  her  a  great  deal  with  the  foundation  of  St.  Joseph's. 
He  died  in  1592. 

2  Don  Francisco  de  Salcedo,  an  Avilan  gentleman  whose  wife,  Dona  Mencia  del 
Aguila,  was  a  cousin  of  the  wife  of  Don  Pedro  de  Gepeda,  St.  Teresa's  uncle  (cf. 
p.  23,  above).   He  had  studied  theology  at  the  Dominican  College  of  St  Thomas* 
in  Avila,  and  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  took  Holy  Orders.  He  died  in  1580. 

8  One  of  these  links  is  mentioned  in  the  preceding  note* 


148  LIFE  [CHAP. 

When  he  had  brought  him  to  talk  to  me,  I,  in  the  greatest  confu- 
sion at  finding  myself  in  the  presence  of  so  holy  a  man,  spoke 
to  him  about  my  soul  and  my  method  of  prayer,  but  he  would 
not  hear  my  confession,  saying  that  he  was  very  much  occupied, 
as  indeed  he  was.  He  began  with  the  holy  determination  to 
treat  me  as  if  I  were  strong  (and  so  I  ought  to  have  been,  con- 
sidering the  extent  to  which,  as  he  saw,  I  practised  prayer), 
so  that  I  should  give  no  offence  of  any  kind  to  God.  But  when  I 
saw  how  determinedly  he  was  attacking  these  little  habits  of 
mine  which  I  have  already  mentioned,  and  that  I  had  not 
courage  enough  to  live  more  perfectly,  I  became  distressed,  and, 
realizing  that  he  was  treating  me  in  spiritual  matters  as  though  I 
were  going  to  become  perfect  immediately,  I  saw  that  I  should 
have  to  be  much  more  carefuL 

In  due  course  I  realized  that  I  should  not  improve  by  using 
the  means  which  he  employed  with  me,  for  they  were  meant 
for  a  soul  which  was  much  more  perfect,  and  I,  though  advanced 
in  Divine  favours,  was,  as  regards  virtues  and  mortification, 
still  quite  a  beginner.  Really,  if  I  had  had  nobody  else  to  consult, 
I  think  my  soul  would  never  have  shown  any  improvement, 
for  the  distress  which  it  caused  me  to  find  that  I  was  not  doing 
what  he  told  me,  and  felt  unable  to  do  so,  was  sufficient  to  make 
me  lose  hope  and  give  up  the  whole  thing.  I  sometimes  marvel 
that,  though  he  was  a  person  with  a  particular  gift  for  leading 
beginners  to  God,  it  was  not  God's  will  that  he  should  under- 
stand my  own  soul  or  desire  to  take  it  into  his  charge.  But  I  see 
now  that  it  was  all  for  my  good,  so  that  I  should  get  to  know 
and  consult  people  as  holy  as  those  of  the  Company  of  Jesus. 

So  I  made  an  arrangement  with  this  saintly  gentleman  that 
he  should  sometimes  come  to  see  me.  It  showed  what  great 
humility  he  had,  that  he  should  have  been  willing  to  have  to  do 
with  anyone  as  wicked  as  I.  He  begaii  to  pay  me  visits  and  to 
encourage  me  and  to  tell  me  not  to  think  that  I  could  get  rid  of 
all  my  troubles  in  a  day  but  to  be  sure  that  God  would  help  me 
to  get  rid  of  them  by  degrees.  He  himself,  he  said,  had  for  many 
years  been  troubled  by  some  quite  trivial  imperfections,  which 
he  had  never  been  able  to  get  rid  of.  O  humility,  what  great 
blessings  dost  thou  bring  to  those  who  possess  thee  and  also  to  those 
who  have  to  do  with  the  humble-minded!  This  saint  (for  so  I 
think  I  can  rightly  call  him)  would  tell  me  about  his  own  weak- 
nesses— or  what  his  humility  led  him  to  think  of  as  such — so 
that  he  might  help  me.  Considered  in  relation  to  his  state  of  life, 
they  were  neither  faults  nor  imperfections,  though  they  would 
be  great  faults  in  the  life  of  a  religious  like  myself.  I  am  not 
saying  this  without  a  reason;  I  seem  to  be  enlarging  upon  small 


XXIII]  LIFE  149 

points,  and  yet  these  are  most  important  if  a  soul  which  is  not 
yet  fledged,  as  they  say,  is  to  begin  to  make  progress  and  learn 
to  fly,  though  no  one  will  believe  this  who  has  not  experienced  it. 
And  as  I  hope  in  God  that  Your  Reverence  will  benefit  many 
souls,  I  say  this  here,  for  my  whole  salvation  was  due  to  the  fact 
that  this  gentleman  knew  how  to  treat  me  and  had  the  humility 
and  charity  necessary  for  dealing  with  me  and  could  put  up  with 
me  when  he  saw  that  in  some  respects  I  was  not  amending  my 
life.  Gradually  and  discreetly  he  showed  me  ways  of  vanquishing 
the  devil.  So  great  was  the  love  which  I  began  to  bear  him  that 
I  found  nothing  more  restful  than  seeing  him,  though  there  were 
few  days  when  I  was  able  to  do  so.  Whenever  a  long  time  passed 
without  a  visit  from  him  I  would  at  once  become  very  much 
worried,  thinking  that  he  was  not  coming  to  see  me  because  I  was 
so  wicked. 

When  he  began  to  realize  the  seriousness  of  my  imperfections, 
which  may  even  have  been  sins  (though  I  improved  after  I  got  to 
know  him),  and  when,  in  order  to  obtain  light  from  him,  I  told 
him  of  the  graces  which  God  was  bestowing  upon  me,  he  warned 
me  that  these  two  things  were  not  consistent,  that  such  favours 
were  given  to  persons  who  were  very  far  advanced  and  greatly 
mortified,  and  that  he  could  not  help  having  misgivings  lest  in 
some  of  these  matters  an  evil  spirit  might  be  at  work  in  me, 
though  he  was  not  sure.  But  he  told  me  to  think  well  over 
my  experiences  in  prayer,  so  far  as  I  understood  them,  and  to 
tell  him  about  them.  But  that  was  the  difficulty:  I  simply  could 
not  describe  these  experiences;  it  is  only  quite  recently  that  God 
has  granted  me  the  grace  of  being  able  to  understand  their  nature 
and  to  describe  them. 

When  he  said  this  to  me,  fearful  as  I  already  was,  I  was  greatly 
distressed  and  wept  sorely;  for  I  really  desired  to  please  God 
and  I  could  not  persuade  myself  that  this  was  the  work  of  the 
devil,  but  I  was  afraid  lest  on  account  of  my  great  sins  God  might 
be  blinding  me  so  that  I  could  not  realize  it.  Looking  through 
books  to  see  if  I  could  learn  how  to  describe  my  method  of  prayer, 
I  found  in  one,  called  The  Ascent  of  the  Mount,*  which  describes 
the  union  of  the  soul  with  God,  all  the  symptoms  I  had  when  I 
was  unable  to  think  of  anything.  It  was  exactly  this  that  I  was 
always  saying — that  when  I  was  experiencing  that  type  of  prayer 
I  could  think  of  nothing.  So  I  marked  the  relevant  passages 
and  gave  him  the  book,  in.  order  that  he  and  that  other  cleric 
to  whom  I  have  referred,  a  holy  man  and  a  servant  of  God, 

1  [She  refers  to  the  Ascent  of  Mount  Sion,  published  at  Seville,  in  1535,  »by  a  Fran- 
ciscan lay-brother,  Bernardino  de  Laredo.  An  account  of  Laredo  and  his  book  will 
be  found  in  SJSM.,  II,  41-76.] 


150  LIFE  [CHAP. 

should  look  at  it  and  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  do.  If  they  thought 
it  well,  I  would  give  up  prayer  altogether,  for  why  should  I  run 
into  these  dangers?  If  after  almost  twenty  years'  experience  of 
prayer  I  had  gained  nothing,  but  had  been  deluded  by  the 
devil,  surely  it  was  better  for  me  not  to  pray  at  all — though  this 
would  also  have  been  very  difficult,  for  I  had  already  discovered 
what  my  soul  was  like  without  prayer.  Whichever  way  I  looked, 
then,  I  was  beset  by  trials.  I  was  like  a  person  who  has  fallen 
into  a  river:  whatever  the  direction  he  takes,  he  is  afraid  the  dan- 
ger will  be  greater  and  yet  he  is  almost  drowning.  This  is  a  very 
great  trial,  and  I  have  experienced  many  such,  as  I  shall  say 
later:  it  may  seem  unimportant  but  it  may  possibly  be  of  great 
advantage  to  learn  how  spirituality  is  to  be  tested. 

And  certainly  this  is  a  grievous  trial  to  experience  and  one 
needs  to  be  careful — women  especially  so,  since  we  are  very  weak, 
and  may  come  to  great  harm  if  we  are  told  in  so  many  words 
that  we  are  being  deluded  by  the  devil.  The  matter  should  be 
very  carefully  considered  and  women  protected  from  all  possible 
dangers.  They  should  be  advised  to  keep  their  experiences  very 
secret  and  it  is  well  that  their  advisers  should  observe  secrecy 
too.  I  speak  of  this  from  knowledge,  for  I  have  been  caused  great 
distress  by  the  indiscretion  of  certain  persons  with  whom  I  have 
discussed  my  experiences  in  prayer.  By  talking  about  them  to 
each  other  they  have  done  me  great  harm,  divulging  things 
which  should  have  been  kept  very  secret,  for  tiey  are  not  meant 
for  everyone  to  know,  and  it  looked  as  though  I  were  publishing 
them  myself.  The  fault,  I  believe,  was  not  theirs:  the  Lord 
permitted  it  so  that  I  might  suffer,  I  do  not  mean  that  they 
divulged  what  I  had  told  them  in  confessidh,  but  none  the  less, 
as  they  were  people  whom  I  had  consulted  about  my  fears,  so 
that  I  might  obtain  light  from  them,  I  thought  they  ought  to 
have  kept  silence.  In  spite  of  this,  however,  1  never  dared  to  hide 
anything  from  such  persons.  I  think,  then,  that  women  should 
be  counselled  with  great  discretion,  and  encouraged,  and  the  righs 
moment  should  be  awaited,  at  which  the  Lord  will  help  them  at 
He  has  helped  me:  had  He  not  done  so,  I  should  have  come  to 
great  harm,  so  timorous  was  I  and  so  fearful.  Considering  the 
serious  heart  trouble  from  which  I  was  suffering,  I  am  amazed 
that  this  did  not  greatly  harm  me. 

Well,  when  I  had  given  him  the  book,  together  with  the  best 
general  account  of  my  life  and  sins  that  I  could  (not  in  confession, 
as  he  was  a  layman,  but  I  made  it  very  clear  to  him  how  wicked 
I  was),  these  two  servants  of  God1  considered  with  great  charity 
and  love  what  would  be  best  for  me.  At  length  they  gave  me 

1  Salcedo  and  Daza. 


XXIII]  LIFE  151 

the  reply  which  I  had  awaited  with  such  dread.  During  the 
intervening  days  I  had  begged  many  persons  to  commend  me  to 
God  and  had  prayed  continually.  But,  when  this  gentleman 
came  to  me,  it  was  to  tell  me  with  great  distress  that  to  the  best  of 
their  belief  my  trouble  came  from  the  devil,  and  the  wisest  thing 
for  me  to  do  would  be  to  discuss  it  with  a  Father  of  the  Company 
of  Jesus,  who  would  come  to  see  me  if  I  asked  him  to  do  so  and 
told  him  what  I  needed.  I  could  then  give  him  a  perfectly 
clear  description  of  my  whole  life  and  spiritual  state  in  the  form 
of  a  general  confession;  and  through  the  virtue  of  the  Sacrament 
of  Confession  God  would  give  him  more  light  on  my  case:  these 
Fathers  were  men  of  great  experience  in  spiritual  matters.  I 
ought  not,  they  said,  to  depart  in  the  very  least  from  whatever  he 
might  say,  because  if  I  had  no  one  to  direct  me  I  was  in  great 
peril. 

This  caused  me  such  distress  and  fear  that  I  did  not  know 
what  to  do :  I  could  only  weep.  But  while  I  was  in  an  oratory,  in 
great  affliction,  and  not  knowing  what  was  to  become  of  me,  I 
read  in  a  book,  which  it  seemed  as  if  the  Lord  had  put  into  my 
hands,  those  words  of  Saint  Paul,  that  God  is  very  faithful  and 
never  allows  people  who  love  Him  to  be  deluded  by  the  devil.1 
This  was  the  greatest  comfort  to  me.  I  began  to  think  over  my 
general  confession  and  to  write  down  all  my  good  and  bad  points 
and  prepare  the  clearest  account  of  my  life  that  I  possibly  could, 
leaving  nothing  unsaid.  I  remember  that,  after  writing  it,  I 
found  so  many  bad  points  and  so  little  that  was  good  that  it 
caused  me  the  greatest  distress  and  affliction.  I  was  also  troubled 
that  my  sisters  in  the  convent  should  see  me  consulting  such 
saintly  people  as  those  of  the  Company  of  Jesus;  for  I  was  afraid 
of  my  wickedness  and  thought  that  I  should  now  be  obliged  to 
abandon  it  and  to  give  up  my  pastimes,  and  that  if  I  did  not  do 
so  I  should  grow  worse;  and  so  I  arranged  with  the  sacristan 
and  portress  that  they  should  not  talk  about  it  to  anyone.  How- 
ever, this  was  of  little  use,  because  when  I  was  sent  for  there  was 
someone  at  the  door  who  talked  about  it  all  over  the  convent. 
What  a -lot  of  obstacles  and  fears  the  devil  sets  before  those  who 
are  anxious  to  approach  God! 

I  told  that  servant  of  God2  all  about  my  soul  (and  he  was 
indeed  a  servant  of  God  and  a  very  prudent  one,  too) ;  and,  being 
well  versed  in  the  subject,  he  told  me  what  was  wrong  and  greatly 
encouraged  me.  He  said  that  I  was  very  evidently  being  led  by 

1  i  Corinthians  x.  13.  "And  God  is  faithful,  who  \vill  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempted 
above  that  which  you  are  able:  but  will  make  also  with  temptation  issue,  that  you 
may  be  able  to  bear  it." 

2  This  was  P.  Juan  de  Ptddanos,  who  was  St.  Teresa's  confessor  for  two  months 
and  probably  the  first  Jesuit  confessor  she  ever  had.  He  died  at  Valladolid,  in  1597. 


152  LIFE  [CHAP. 

the  Spirit  of  God  and  that  I  needed  to  return  to  my  prayer:  I 
was  not  working  upon  a  good  foundation,  nor  had  I  begun  to 
understand  the  nature  of  mortification  (which  was  true:  I 
do  not  believe  I  even  understood  the  meaning  of  the  word). 
I  must  on  no  account  give  up  prayer;  on  the  contrary,  since  God 
was  granting  me  such  special  favours,  I  must  work  hard  at  it. 
How  did  I  know,  he  asked  me,  that  the  Lord  was  not  desirous 
of  using  me  in  order  to  help  a  great  number  of  people  and 
perhaps  to  do  other  things  (it  seems  now  that  he  was  prophesying 
what  the  Lord  afterwards  did  with  me)  ?  I  should  be  very  much 
to  blame,  he  added,  if  I  were  not  responsive  to  the  favours  that 
God  was  showing  me.  Throughout,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  the  Holy 
Spirit  was  speaking  through  him,  for  the  good  of  my  soul,  to 
judge  from  the  way  that  his  words  impressed  themselves  upon  it. 

He  made  me  very  much  ashamed;  and  led  me  along  paths 
which  seemed  to  make  me  quite  a  different  person.  What  a  great 
thing  it  is  to  understand  a  soul!  He  told  me  that  my  daily  prayer 
should  be  based  upon  one  of  the  incidents  of  the  Passion,  and 
that  I  should  get  all  I  could  out  of  that  incident,  think  only  of 
Christ's  Humanity  and  as  far  as  possible  resist  the  desire  for 
recollection  and  consolations;  these  I  was  not  to  indulge  again 
until  he  gave  me  further  instructions. 

He  left  me  comforted  and  strengthened.  The  Lord  helped  us 
both,  enabled  him  to  understand  my  spiritual  condition  and 
showed  him  how  to  direct  me.  I  made  a  determination  not  to 
depart  in  any  way  from  what  he  commanded  me  and  to  that 
determination  I  have  remained  true  until  this  day.  Praised  be 
the  Lord,  Who  has  given  me  grace  to  obey  my  confessors,  however 
imperfectly!  These  have  almost  always  been  chosen  from  the 
blessed  Fathers  of  the  Company  of  Jesus,  although,  as  I  say,  I  have 
followed  them  imperfectly.  My  soul  began  to  grow  notably 
better,  as  I  shall  now  relate. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Continues  the  subject  already  begun.  Describes  how  her  soul  profited 
more  and  more  after  she  began  to  obey,  how  little  it  availed  her  to 
resist  the  favours  of  God  and  how  His  Majesty  went  on  giving  them 
to  her  in  increasing  measure. 

After  I  had  made  this  confession  my  soul  became  so  amenable 
that  I  thought  there  could  be  nothing  which  I  should  not  be 
prepared  to  do;  and  so  I  began  to  make  many  changes  in  my 


XXIV]  LIFE  153 

habits,  although  my  confessor  did  not  press  me  to  do  so  and  in  fact 
seemed  to  trouble  about  it  all  very  little.  But  this  moved  me  the 
more,  for  he  led  me  by  the  way  of  love  for  God,  which  brought  me, 
not  oppression,  as  it  would  if  I  had  not  done  it  out  of  love,  but 
freedom.  I  remained  in  that  state  for  nearly  two  months,  doing 
all  I  could  to  resist  the  favours  and  graces  of  God.  The  change 
in  me  was  manifest  even  superficially,  for  the  Lord  was  already 
beginning  to  encourage  me  to  suffer  things  which  persons  who 
knew  me,  and  even  the  nuns  in  my  own  house,1  considered  and 
described  as  extreme.  And  they  were  right:  these  things  were 
indeed  extreme  by  comparison  with  what  I  had  been  doing  before. 
But  they  fell  short  of  the  obligations  of  my  habit  and  profession. 

By  resisting  the  consolations  and  favours  of  God  I  gained  this — 
that  His  Majesty  Himself  taught  rne.  For  previously  I  had  thought 
that,  if  I  was  to  receive  favours  in  prayer,  I  must  go  apart  by 
myself  a  great  deal,  and  so  I  had  hardly  dared  to  stir.  Then  I 
began  to  see  how  little  this  had  to  do  with  it;  the  more  I  tried 
to  think  of  other  things,  the  more  completely  the  Lord  enveloped 
me  in  that  sweetness  and  glory  until  I  felt  so  completely  sur- 
rounded by  it  that  I  could  not  flee  from  it  in  any  direction; 
and  thus  matters  continued.  I  was  so  much  concerned  about 
this  that  it  caused  me  distress.  The  Lord,  however,  was  much 
more  concerned,  during  those  two  months,  to  grant  me  favours 
and  to  reveal  Himself  to  me  more  than  He  had  been  wont  to  do, 
so  that  I  might  the  better  understand  that  resistance  was  no  longer 
in  my  power.  I  began  to  conceive  a  new  love  for  the  most  sacred 
Humanity.  My  prayers  now  began  to  take  shape  like  an  edifice 
with  solid  foundations,  and  I  grew  fonder  of  penances,  which  I  had 
neglected  because  of  my  frequent  indispositions. 

That  holy  man2  who  heard  my  confessions  told  me  that  there 
were  certain  things  which  could  not  hurt  me;  and  suggested  that 
God  might  perhaps  be  giving  me  ill-health  just  because  I  did 
not  perform  penances — that  is,  that  His  Majesty  was  being 
pleased  to  give  me  the  penances  Himself.  My  confessor  ordered 
me  to  practise  certain  mortifications  which  I  did  not  find  very 
agreeable.  But  I  performed  them  all,  because  his  commands 
seemed  to  me  to  come  feom  the  Lord,  and  I  thanked  him  for 
giving  them  to  me  so  that  I  could  obey  Him.  Any  offence, 
however  slight,  which  I  might  commit  against  God  I  would  feel 
in  my  soul  so  deeply  that  if  I  had  anything  I  did  not  need3  I 
could  not  become  recollected  again  until  it  had  been  taken  away. 
I  prayed  earnestly  that  the  Lord  would  hold  me  by  His  hand, 

1  The  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila.  *  P.  Juan  de  PrAdanos. 

8  [Ltt.  "any  superfluous  thing" — presumably  referring  to  small  comforts  ox 
luxuries.] 


154  LIFE  [CHAP. 

and,  now  that  I  was  in  touch  with  His  servants,  would  grant  me 
grace  not  to  turn  back.  For  to  do  this,  I  thought,  would  be  a  great 
failing,  since  it  would  detract  from  their  credit. 

During  this  period  the  town  was  visited  by  Father  Francis, 
who  was  Duke  of  Gandia  but  some  years  before  had  given  up 
everything  and  entered  the  Company  of  Jesus.1  My  confessor 
and  the  gentleman  I  have  spoken  of  arranged  for  him  to  come 
and  see  me  so  that  I  might  talk  to  him  and  tell  him  about  my 
experiences  in  prayer,  as  they  knew  him  to  be  very  proficient 
in  this  and  to  be  receiving  great  favours  and  graces  from  God, 
as  rewards  in  this  life  for  all  that  he  had  given  up  for  Him.  When 
he  had  heard  my  story,  he  told  me  that  I  was  being  led  by  the 
Spirit  of  God  and  that  he  thought  I  should  not  be  doing  right  to 
resist  Him  further.  It  had  been  right  to  do  so,  he  said,  uiLtil 
now;  but  he  suggested  that  I  should  always  begin  my  prayers 
with  a  meditation  on  one  of  the  incidents  of  the  Passion,  and, 
if  the  Lord  should  then  transport  my  spirit,  I  should  not  resist 
Him  but  should  allow  His  Majesty  to  have  it  and  make  no  effort 
to  keep  it  back.  He  gave  me  this  medicine  and  counsel  as  one 
who  had  himself  made  great  progress:  in  this  matter  there  is 
much  potency  in  experience.  He  said  that  it  would  be  a  mistake 
for  me  to  resist  any  longer.  I  was  greatly  comforted  and  so 
was  this  gentleman:  he  was  delighted  that  the  Father  had  said 
I  was  being  led  by  God  and  he  continued  to  help  and  advise 
me  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  which  was  very  great. 

About  this  time  my  confessor  was  transferred  elsewhere.  I  was 
very  sorry  for  this,  for  I  thought  I  should  be  bound  to  grow  wicked 
again,  not  supposing  that  it  would  be  possible  to  find  another  like 
hum.  My  soul  was  as  if  in.  a  desert;  I  grew  most  disconsolate 
and  fearful;  and  I  did  not  know  what  would  become  of  me.  But 
a  relative  pf  mine  arranged  for  me  to  go  and  stay  with  her  and 
I  at  once  set  about  getting  another  confessor  from  the  Company. 
It  was  the  Lord's  good  pleasure  that  I  should  become  friendly 
with  a  widowed  lady  of  good  family,2  who  was  much  given  to 

1  St.  Francis  Borgia  [Sp.,  Borja]  had  been  appointed  Commissary  of  the  Society 
of  Jesus  in  Spain  and  it  was  in  this  capacity  that,  on  several  occasions,  he  visited  the 
College  of  St.  Giles  at  Avila.  The  visit  on  which  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  St. 
Teresa  took  place  in  1557.  The  Duchess  of  Gandia,  who  was  one  of  the  witnesses 
when  evidence  was  being  taken  previously  to  her  beatification,  deposed  that  she  had 
"often  heard  the  Duke  of  Gandfa,  Father  Francis  of  Borja,  who  became  General 
of  the  Society  of  Jesus,  speak  of  the  spirituality,  life  and  sanctity  of  the  Mother  Teresa 
of  Jesus." 

2  Dona  Guiomar  (or  Jer6nima)  de  UUoa.  Both  her  parents,  Don  Pedro  de  Ulloa 
and  Dona  Aldonza  de  Guzman,  bore  illustrious  names.  Left  a  widow  at  the  age  of 
twenty-five,  she  devoted  herself  to  a  life  of  virtue,  and  helped  St.  Teresa,  whom  she 
first  met  in  1557,  with  her  early  work  in  connection  with  the  Discalced  Reform. 
Cf.  St.  Teresa's  testimony  to  her  in  a  letter  to  her  brother  Lorenzo,  dated  December 
31,  1561  ^Letters  (St.),  I,  4),  where  she  describes  their  friendship  as  closer  than  one 
between  sisters. 


XXIV]  LIFE  155 

prayer,  and  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  these  Fathers.  She 
arranged  for  me  to  make  my  confessions  to  her  own  confessor  and  I 
stayed  in  her  house  for  some  days;  she  lived  quite  near.  I  was 
delighted  at  getting  into  close  touch  with  the  Fathers,  for  the 
mere  realization  of  the  holiness  of  their  way  of  life  brought  my 
soul  great  benefit 

This  Father1  began  to  lead  me  to  greater  perfection.  He  told 
me  that  I  ought  to  leave  nothing  undone  so  as  to  become  entirely 
pleasing  to  God,  and  he  treated  me  with  great  skill,  yet  also  very 
gently,  for  my  soul  was  not  at  all  strong,  but  very  sensitive, 
especially  as  regards  abandoning  certain  friendships  which  were 
not  actually  leading  me  to  offend  God.  There  was  a  great  deal  of 
affection  beneath  these  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  I  abandoned 
them  I  should  be  sinning  through  ingratitude;  so  I  asked  him  why 
it  was  necessary  for  me  to  be  ungrateful  if  I  was  not  offending 
God.  He  told  me  to  commend  the  matter  to  God  for  a  few  days, 
and  to  recite  the  hymn  Veni,  Creator,  and  I  should  be  enlightened 
as  to  which  was  the  better  thing  to  do.  So  I  spent  the  greater  part 
of  one  whole  day  in  prayer;  and  then,  beseeching  the  Lord  that 
He  would  help  me  to  please  Him  in  everything,  I  began  the  hymn. 
While  I  was  reciting  it,  there  came  to  me  a  transport  so  sudden 
that  it  almost  carried  me  away;  I  could  make  no  mistake  about 
this,  so  clear  was  it.  This  was  the  first  time  that  the  Lord  had 
granted  me  the  favour  of  any  kind  of  rapture.  I  heard  these 
words:  "I  will  have  thee  converse  now,  not  with  men,  but  with 
angels/'  This  simply  amazed  me,  for  my  soul  was  greatly  moved 
and  the  words  were  spoken  to  me  in  the  depths  of  the  spirit. 
For  this  reason  they  made  me  afraid,  though  on  the  other  hand 
they  brought  me  a  great  deal  of  comfort,  which  remained  with 
me  after  the  fear  caused  by  the  strangeness  of  the  experience 
had  vanished. 

The  words  have  come  true:  never  since  then  have  I  been 
able  to  maintain  firm  friendship  save  with  people  who  I  believe 
love  God  and  try  to  serve  Him,  nor  have  I  derived  comfort 
from  any  others  or  cherished  any  private  affection  for  them*  It 
has  not  been  in  my  own  power  to  do  so;  and  it  has  made  no 
difference  if  the  people  have  been  relatives  or  friends.  Unless 
I  know  that  a  person  loves  God  or  practises  prayer,  it  is  a  real 
cross  to  me  to  have  to  do  with  him.  I  really  believe  this  is  the 
absolute  truth. 

1  P.  Baltasar  Alvarez,  who  was  one  of  the  best  directors  St.  Teresa  ever  had, 
though  at  times,  as  we  shall  see  in  Chap.  XXVIII,  he  was  somewhat  hesitating 
and  timid  in  his  treatment  of  her.  He  acted  as  her  confessor  from  1559  to  1564, 
and  in  1567,  while  at  Medina  del  Campo,  was  of  great  use  to  her  in  connection  with 
the  foundation  which  she  made  there.  He  died  on  July  25,  1580,  at  the  age  of 
only  forty-seven. 


156  LIFE  [CHAP. 

Since  that  day  I  have  been  courageous  enough  to  give  up 
everything  for  the  sake  of  God,  Who  in  that  moment — for  I 
think  it  happened  in  no  more  than  a  moment — was  pleased 
to  make  His  servant  another  person.  So  there  was  no  need  for  my 
confessor  to  give  me  any  further  commands.  When  he  had 
found  me  so  much  attached  to  these  friendships,  he  had  not 
ventured  to  tell  me  definitely  to  abandon  them.  He  had  to 
wait  until  the  Lord  took  it  in  hand,  as  He  did.  I  did  not  think  at 
first  that  I  could  ever  give  them  up,  for  I  had  tried  it  already,  and 
it  had  caused  me  such  great  distress  that  I  had  put  the  idea  aside, 
as  the  friendships  did  not  appear  unseemly.  But  now  the  Lord 
set  me  free  and  gave  me  strength  to  carry  my  resolution  into 
practice.  So  I  told  my  confessor  this  and  gave  up  everything, 
exactly  as  he  had  instructed  me  to  do.  And  when  the  persons  with 
whom  I  had  been  intimate  saw  how  determined  I  was  it  caused 
them  great  edification.  , 

Blessed  for  ever  be  God,  Who  in  one  moment  gave  the  freedom 
which,  despite  all  the  efforts  I  had  been  making  for  so  many 
years,  I  had  never  been  able  to  attain,  though  sometimes  I  had 
done  such  violence  to  myself  that  it  badly  affected  my  health. 
As  it  was  the  work  of  One  Who  is  almighty  and  the  true  Lord 
of  all,  it  caused  me  no  distress. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

Discusses  the  method  and  manner  in  which  these  locutions  bestowed  by  God 
on  the  soul  are  apprehended  without  being  heard  and  also  certain 
kinds  of  deception  which  may  occur  here  and  the  way  to  recognize  them. 
This  chapter  is  most  profitable  for  anyone  who  finds  himself  at  this 
stage  of  prayer  because  the  exposition  is  very  good  and  contains  much 
teaching. 

It  will  be  well,  I  think,  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  locutions 
which  God  bestows  upon  the  soul,  and  the  soul's  experiences 
on  receiving  them,  so  that  Your  Reverence  may  understand  this. 
For,  since  the  occasion  I  have  described1  on  which  the  Lord 
granted  me  this  favour,  it  has  become  quite  a  common  experience 
even  to  this  day,  as  will  be  seen  in  what  is  to  come.  Though 
perfectly  formed,  the  words  are  not  heard  with  the  bodily  ear; 
yet  they  are  understood  much  more  clearly  than  if  they  were  so 
heard,  and,  however  determined  one's  resistance,  it  is  impossible 
to  fail  to  hear  them.  For  when,  on  the  natural  plane,  we  do  not 

1  Chap.  XIX  (p.  115,  above).  The  date  of  this  first  locution,  can  be  fixed  only 
approximately,  between  1555  and  1557 


XXV]  LIFE  157 

wish  to  hear,  we  can  close  our  ears,  or  attend  to  something  else, 
with  the  result  that,  although  we  may  hear,  we  do  not  understand. 
But  when  God  talks  in  this  way  to  the  soul,  there  is  no  such 
remedy:  I  have  to  listen,  whether  I  like  it  or  no,  and  my  under- 
standing has  to  devote  itself  so  completely  to  what  God  wishes  me 
to  understand  that  whether  I  want  to  listen  or  not  makes  no 
difference.  For,  as  He  Who  is  all-powerful  wills  us  to  understand, 
we  have  to  do  what  He  wills;  and  He  reveals  Himself  as  our  true 
Lord.  I  have  long  experience  of  this;  I  was  so  much  afraid  of  it 
that  I  kept  up  my  resistance  for  almost  two  years  and  sometimes 
I  still  try  to  resist,  though  with  little  success. 

I  should  like  to  describe  the  different  kinds  of  deception 
which  may  occur  here,  though  I  think  anyone  who  has  much 
experience  will  seldom,  if  ever,  be  deceived.  But,  as  considerable 
experience  is  necessary  before  this  state  can  be  reached,  I  will 
explain  the  difference  between  locutions  coming  from  good 
spirits  and  from  evil  ones  and  how,  as  may  happen,  the  appre- 
hension can  be  caused  by  the  understanding  itself  or  by  the  spirit 
conversing  with  itself  (I  do  not  know  if  that  is  possible,  but  I  was 
thinking  that  it  was,  this  very  day)*  With  regard  to  cases  in  which 
the  locution  is  of  God,  I  have  a  great  deal  of  evidence,  as  I  have 
heard  such  voices  two  or  three  years  beforehand  and  all  that  they 
have  said  has  come  true — not  a  single  one  of  them  so  far  has 
proved  deceptive.  And  there  are  other  things  in  which  the  Spirit 
of  God  can  be  clearly  perceived,  as  will  be  said  later. 

Sometimes,  I  think,  a  person  who  has  commended  some  matter 
to  God  with  great  affection  and  concern  will  believe  he  hears 
something  telling  him  if  it  will  be  granted  him  or  not — that  is 
quite  possible — though,  once  he  has  really  heard  anything  of  the 
kind,  he  will  recognize  it  immediately,  for  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence between  true  and  false.  If  it  is  something  invented  by  the 
understanding,  subtle  as  the  invention  may  be,  he  realizes  that  it 
is  the  understanding  which  is  making  up  the  words  and  uttering 
them,  for  it  is  just  as  if  a  person  were  making  up  a  speech  or  as  if 
he  were  listening  to  what  someone  else  was  saying  to  him.  The 
understanding  mil  realize  that  it  is  not  listening,  but  being  active; 
and  the  words  it  is  inventing  are  fantastic  and  indistinct  and  have 
not  the  clarity  of  true  locutions.  In  such  a  case  we  have  the  power 
to  divert  our  attention  from  them,  just  as  we  are  able  to  stop 
speaking  and  become  silent,  whereas  with  true  locutions  no  such 
diversion  is  possible.  A  further  indication,  which  is  surer  than 
any  other,  is  that  these  false  locutions  effect  nothing,  whereas, 
when  the  Lord  speaks,  the  words  are  accompanied  by  effects, 
and  although  the  words  may  be,  not  of  devotion,  but  rather  of 
reproof,  they  prepare  the  soul  and  make  it  ready  and  move  it  to 


158  LIFE  [CHAP. 

affection,  give  it  light  and  make  it  happy  and  tranquil;  and,  if 
it  has  been  afflicted  with  aridity  and  turmoil  and  unrest,  the  Lord 
frees  it  as  with  His  own  hand,  or  more  effectively  even  than  that; 
for  He  appears  to  wish  it  to  realize  His  power  and  the  efficacy  of 
His  words. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  difference  is  like  that  between  speaking 
and  listening — neither  greater  nor  less.  For  while  I  am  speaking, 
as  I  have  said,  my  understanding  is  composing  what  I  am  saying, 
whereas,  if  I  am  being  spoken  to,  I  am  doing  nothing  but  listen 
and  it  costs  me  no  labour.  In  the  one  case  it  is  as  if  the  thing  is 
there  but  we  cannot  be  sure  what  it  is,  any  more  than  if  we  were 
half  asleep.  In  the  other  case  there  is  a  voice  which  is  so  clear 
that  not  a  syllable  of  what  it  says  is  lost.  And  sometimes  it  happens 
that  the  understanding  and  the  soul  are  so  perturbed  and  dis- 
tracted that  they  could  not  put  together  a  single  sentence  and  yet 
the  soul  hears  long  set  speeches  addressed  to  it  which  it  could  not 
have  composed,  even  if  completely  recollected.  And  at  the  first 
word,  as  I  say,  it  is  completely  changed.  How,  especially  if  it  is 
in  rapture  and  the  faculties  are  suspended,  can  the  soul  under- 
stand things  that  had  never  come  into  its  mind  before?  How  can 
they  come  at  a  time  when  the  memory  is  hardly  working  and  the 
imagination  is,  as  it  were,  in  a  stupor? 

It  should  be  noted  that  we  never,  I  think,  see  visions  or  hear 
these  words  at  a  time  when  the  soul  is  in  union  during  an  actual 
state  of  rapture,  for  then,  as  I  have  already  explained  (I  think 
it  was  in  writing  of  the  Second  Water),  all  the  faculties  are  wholly 
lost,  and  at  that  time  I  do  not  believe  there  is  any  seeing,  hearing 
or  understanding  at  all.  For  the  soul  is  wholly  in  the  power 
of  another,  and  during  that  period,  which  is  very  short,  I  do  not 
think  the  Lord  leaves  it  freedom  for  anything.  It  is  of  when  this 
short  period  has  passed,  and  the  soul  is  still  enraptured,  that  I  am 
speaking;  for  the  faculties,  though  not  lost,  are  in  such  a  state 
that  they  can  do  practically  nothing;  they  are,  as  it  were,  absorbed 
and  incapable  of  coherent  reasoning.  There  are  so  many  reasoning 
processes  by  which  we  may  tell  the  difference  between  these  types 
of  locution  that,  although  we  may  be  mistaken  once,  we  shall  not 
be  so  often, 

I  mean  that,  if  a  soul  is  experienced  and  alert,  it  will  see  the 
difference  very  clearly;  for,  apart  from  other  characteristics 
which  prove  the  truth  of  what  I  have  said,  human  locutions 
produce  no  effect  upon  the  soul  and  it  does  not  accept  them  (as 
it  has  to  accept  Divine  locutions,  even  against  its  will)  or  give 
them  credence:  on  the  contrary,  it  recognizes  them  as  ravings 
of  the  mind  and  will  take  no  more  notice  of  them  than  of  a  person 
whom  it  knows  to  be  mad.  But  to  Divine  locutions  we  listen  as 


XXV]  LIFE  159 

we  should  to  a  person  of  great  holiness,  learning  and  authority 
who  we  know  will  not  lie  to  us.  Indeed,  even  this  is  an  inadequate 
comparison,  for  sometimes  these  words  are  of  such  majesty  that, 
without  our  knowing  from  whom  they  come,  they  make  us 
tremble  if  they  are  words  of  reproof  and  if  they  are  words  of  love 
fill  us  with  a  love  that  is  all-consuming.  Further,  as  I  have  said, 
they  are  things  of  which  the  memory  has  no  recollection,  and 
sometimes  they  are  such  lengthy  speeches  and  are  uttered  so  quickly 
that  it  would  take  us  a  long  time  to  make  them  up  ourselves  and 
in  that  case  I  am  sure  we  could  not  be  unaware  that  we  had 
composed  them.  So  there  is  no  reason  for  my  dwelling  any  longer 
upon  this,  for,  unless  he  deliberately  courted  deception,  I  think 
it  would  be  extraordinary  if  any  experienced  person  were 
deceived. 

I  have  often  been  doubtful,  and  failed  to  believe  what  was  said 
to  me,  and  wondered  if  I  had  been  imagining  it  (after  the  ex- 
perience was  over,  I  mean,  for  at  the  time  doubt  is  impossible) ; 
and  then,  after  a  long  interval  has  elapsed,  I  have  found  it  all 
fulfilled.  For  the  Lord  impresses  His  words  upon  the  memory 
so  that  it  is  impossible  to  forget  them,  whereas  the  words  that  come 
from  our  own  understanding  are  like  the  first  movement  of  thought, 
which  passes  and  is  forgotten.  The  Divine  words  resemble 
something  of  which  with  the  lapse  of  time  a  part  may  be  forgotten 
but  not  so  completely  that  one  loses  the  memory  of  its  having  been 
said.  Only  if  a  long  time  has  passed,  or  if  the  words  were  words 
of  favour  or  of  instruction,  can  this  happen;  words  of  prophecy, 
in  my  opinion,  cannot  possibly  be  forgotten — at  least,  I  can  never 
forget  them  myself,  and  my  memory  is  a  poor  one. 

I  repeat,  then,  that,  unless  a  soul  should  be  so  impious  as  to 
want  to  pretend  to  have  received  this  favour,  and  to  say  it  has 
understood  something  when  it  has  not,  which  would  be  very 
wrong,  there  seems  to  me  no  possibility  of  its  failing  to  know  quite 
well  if  it  is  making  up  these  words  and  addressing  them  to  itself. 
This  is  assuming  that  it  has  once  heard  the  Spirit  of  God :  if  it 
has  not,  it  may  continue  to  be  deceived  all  its  life  long,  and  think 
it  is  understanding  what  is  being  said  to  it,  though  I  do  not  know 
how  it  can  do  so.  Either  this  soul  wishes  to  understand  or  it  does 
not :  if  it  is  sorely  troubled  at  what  it  hears  and  has  not  the  slightest 
desire  to  hear  because  of  its  many  fears  and  many  other  reasons 
it  may  have  for  desiring  to  be  quiet  in  its  times  of  prayer  and  not 
to  have  these  experiences,  how  can  its  understanding  have  time 
enough  for  the  making  up  of  these  speeches?  Fortune  is  essential 
for  this.  The  Divine  words,  on  the  other  hand,  instruct  us  at 
once,  without  any  lapse  of  time,  and  by  their  means  we  can 
understand  things  which  it  would  probably  take  us  a  month  to 


160  LIFE  [CHAP. 

make  up  ourselves.  And  at  some  of  the  things  which  they  under- 
stand, the  understanding  and  the  soul  are  astounded. 

That  is  the  position;  and  anyone  who  has  experience  of  it  will 
know  that  all  I  have  said  is  literally  true.  I  praise  God  that  I 
have  been  able  so  to  explain  it.  And  I  will  end  by  saying  that,  if 
all  locutions  came  from  the  understanding,  we  could  hear  them 
whenever  we  liked  and  we  could  think  we  heard  them  whenever 
we  prayed.  But  with  Divine  locutions  this  is  not  the  case.  I  may 
listen  for  many  days;  and,  although  1  may  desire  to  hear  them, 
I  shall  be  unable  to  do  so;  and  then,  at  other  times,  when  I  have 
no  desire  to  hear  them,  as  I  have  said,  I  am  compelled  to.  It 
seems  to  me  that  anyone  who  wishes  to  deceive  people  by  saying 
that  he  has  heard  from  God  what  comes  from  himself  might 
equally  well  say  that  he  heard  it  with  his  bodily  ears.  It  is  cer- 
tainly a  fact  that  I  never  thought  there  was  any  other  way  of 
hearing  or  understanding  until  I  had  this  experience  myself,  and 
so,  as  I  have  said,  it  has  cost  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 

When  a  locution  comes  from  the  devil,  it  not  only  fails  to  leave 
behind  good  effects  but  leaves  bad  ones.  This  has  happened  to 
me,  though  only  on  two  or  three  occasions,  and  each  time  I  have 
immediately  been  warned  by  the  Lord  that  the  locution  came 
from  the  devil.  Besides  being  left  in  a  state  of  great  aridity, 
the  soul  suffers  a  disquiet  such  as  I  have  experienced  on  many 
other  occasions  when  the  Lord  has  allowed  me  to  be  exposed  to 
many  kinds  of  sore  temptation  and  spiritual  trial;  and  though 
this  disquiet  continually  tortures  me,  as  I  shall  say  later,  it  is  of 
such  a  nature  that  one  cannot  discover  whence  it  comes.  The 
soul  seems  to  resist  it  and  is  perturbed  and  afflicted  without 
knowing  why,  for  what  the  devil  actually  says  is  not  evil,  but 
good.  I  wonder  if  one  kind  of  spirit  can  be  conscious  of  another. 

The  pleasures  and  joys  which  the  devil  bestows  are,  in  my 
opinion,  of  immense  diversity.  By  means  of  these  pleasures  he 
might  well  deceive  anyone  who  is  not  experiencing,  or  has  not 
experienced,  other  pleasures  given  by  God. 

I  mean  what  I  say  when  I  describe  them  as  pleasures,  for  they 
consist  of  a  refreshment  which  is  sweet,  invigorating,  lasting  in  its 
effects,  delectable  and  tranquil.  Mild  feelings  of  devotion  which 
come  to  the  soul  and  which  issue  in  tears  and  other  brief  emotional 
outlets  are  merely  frail  flowerets  blasted  at  the  first  breath  of 
persecution:  they  are  a  good  beginning,  and  the  emotions  they 
engender  are  holy  ones/but  I  do  not  call  them  true  devotion  at  all 
and  they  are  useless  as  means  of  distinguishing  between  a  good 
spirit  and  an  evil  one.  So  it  is  well  for  us  always  to  proceed  with 
great  caution,  for  persons  who  experience  visions  or  revelations 
and  are  no  farther  advanced  in  prayer  than  this  might  easily 


XXV]  LIFE  161 

be  deceived.  I  myself  had  never  experienced  anything  of  the  kind 
until  God,  of  His  goodness  alone,  granted  me  the  Prayer  of  Union, 
unless  it  were  on  the  first  occasion  of  which  I  have  spoken,  when, 
many  years  ago,  I  saw  Christ.1  How  I  wish  His  Majesty  had 
been  pleased  for  me  to  realize  then  that  this  was  a  genuine  vision, 
as  I  have  since  realized  it  was:  it  would  have  been  no  small 
blessing  to  me.  After  experiencing  Satanic  locutions,2  the  soul  is 
not  in  the  least  docile  but  seems  both  bewildered  and  highly 
discontented  at  the  same  time. 

I  consider  it  quite  certain  that  the  devil  will  not  deceive,  and 
that  God  will  not  permit  him  to  deceive,  a  soul  which  has  no 
trust  whatever  in  itself,  and  is  strengthened  in  faith  and  knows  full 
well  that  for  one  single  article  of  the  Faith  it  would  suffer  a 
thousand  deaths.  With  this  love  for  the  Faith,  which  God  im- 
mediately infuses  into  it,  and  which  produces  a  faith  that  is  living 
and  strong,  the  soul  strives  ever  to  act  in  conformity  with  the 
doctrine  of  the  Church,  asking  for  instruction  from  this  person 
and  from  that,  and  acts  as  one  already  strongly  established  in 
these  truths,  so  that  all  the  revelations  it  could  imagine,  even 
were  it  to  see  the  heavens  opened,  would  not  cause  it  to  budge  an 
inch  from  the  Church's  teachings.  If  it  should  ever  feel  its  thoughts 
wavering  about  this,  or  find  itself  stopping  to  say  "If  God  says 
this  to  me,  it  may  quite  well  be  true,  just  as  what  He  said  to  the 
Saints  is  true",  I  will  not  assert  that  it  necessarily  believes  what  it 
is  saying,  but  the  devil  is  certainly  taking  the  first  step  towards 
tempting  it.  To  stop  and  say  this  is  clearly  wrong;  but  often,  I 
believe,  even  this  first  step  will  have  no  effect  if  the  soul  is  so 
strong  in  this  respect  (as  the  Lord  makes  the  soul  to  whom  He 
grants  these  things),  that  it  feels  able  to  pulverize  the  devils  in  its 
defence  of  one  of  the  smallest  of  the  truths  which  the  Church  holds. 

I  mean  by  this  that,  if  the  soul  does  not  find  itself  in  possession 
of  this  great  strength,  and  is  not  helped  by  devotion  or  by  visions, 
it  must  not  consider  its  strength  to  be  secure.  For,  though  it  may 
not  be  aware  of  any  immediate  harm,  great  harm  might  be  causea 
it  by  slow  degrees;  for,  as  far  as  I  can  see  and  learn  by  experience, 
the  soul  must  be  convinced  that  a  thing  comes  from  God  only 
if  it  is  in  conformity  with  Holy  Scripture;  if  it  were  to  diverge 
from  that  in  the  very  least,  I  think  I  should  be  incomparably 
more  firmly  convinced  that  it  came  from  the  devil  than  I  previously 
was  that  it  came  from  God,  however  sure  I  might  have  fdt  of 
this.  There  is  no  need,  in  that  case,  to  go  in  search  of  signs,  or 
to  ask  from  what  spirit  it  comes ;  for  this  is  so  clear  a  sign  that  it  is 
of  the  devil  that,  if  the  whole  world  assured  me  it  came  from  God, 

1  Chap.  VII  (p.  40,  above). 

*  [This  phrase  is  not  in  the  original,  but  appears  to  be  understood.] 


1 62  LIFE  [CHAP. 

I  should  not  believe  it.  The  position  is  that,  when  it  comes  from 
the  devil,  all  that  is  good  is  hidden  from  the  soul,  and  flees  from  it, 
and  the  soul  becomes  restless  and  peevish  and  the  effects  produced 
cannot  possibly  be  good.  It  may  have  good  desires,  but  they  are 
not  strong  ones,  and  the  humility  left  in  it  is  false  humility, 
devoid  of  tranquillity  and  gentleness.  Anyone,  I  think,  who  has 
experience  of  the  good  spirit  will  understand  this. 

None  the  less,  the  devil  can  play  many  tricks ;  and  so  there  is 
nothing  so  certain  as  that  we  must  always  preserve  our  misgivings 
about  this,  and  proceed  cautiously,  and  choose  a  learned  man  for 
our  director,  and  hide  nothing  from  him.  If  we  do  this,  no  harm 
can  befall  us,  although  a  great  deal  has  befallen  me  through 
these  excessive  fears  which  some  people  have.  This  was  par- 
ticularly so  on  one  occasion,  at  a  meeting  between  a  number  of 
people  in  whom  I  had  great  confidence,  and  rightly  so.  Though 
my  relations  were  with  only  one  of  them,  he  ordered  me  to  speak 
freely  with  the  rest;  I  did  so,  and  they  had  long  talks  together 
about  helping  me,  for  they  had  a  great  affection  for  me  and 
feared  I  was  deluded.  I,  too,  was  terribly  afraid  of  this  except  when 
at  prayer,  for  at  these  times  I  was  immediately  reassured  whenever 
the  Lord  bestowed  any  favour  upon  me.  I  think  there  were  five 
or  six  of  these  people,  all  of  them  great  servants  of  God,  and  my 
confessor  told  me  that  they  had  all  decided  I  was  being  deceived 
by  the  devil  and  that  I  must  communicate  less  frequently  and  try 
to  find  distractions  so  that  I  should  not  be  alone.  I  was  extremely 
fearful,  as  I  have  said,  and  my  heart  trouble  made  things  worse, 
with  the  result  that  I  seldom  dared  to  remain  alone  in  a  room 
by  day.  When  I  found  that  they  all  affirmed  this,  but  that  I 
myself  could  not  believe  it,  I  developed  a  most  serious  scruple, 
and  believed  myself  lacking  in  humility.  These  men,  I  said,  were 
all  leading  incomparably  better  lives  than  I,  and  they  were  also 
learned  men:  how,  then,  could  I  do  other  than  believe  them? 
So  I  made  every  possible  effort  to  believe  what  they  said,  realizing 
how  wicked  my  life  was,  and  supposing  that,  in  view  of  this, 
they  must  be  right  in  what  they  said  about  me. 

With  this  affliction  oppressing  me,  I  left  the  church  and  went 
into  an  oratory.  For  many  days  I  had  refrained  from  com- 
municating and  from  being  alone,  which  was  my  great  comfort; 
and  I  had  had  no  one  with  whom  to  discuss  this  matter,  for 
everyone  was  against  me.  Some  of  them,  I  thought,  were  mocking 
me  when  I  spoke  to  them  about  it,  as  if  I  were  imagining  it  all. 
Others  warned  my  coniessor  to  be  on  his  guard  against  me. 
Others  said  that  it  was  clearly  a  deception  of  the  devil.  Only 
my  confessor  consistently  comforted  me,  and,  as  I  afterwards 
found  out,  he  was  siding  with  them  in  order  to  test  me.  He  used 


XXV]  LIFE  163 

to  tell  me  that,  provided  I  did  not  offend  God,  my  prayer  could 
do  me  no  harm  even  if  it  came  from  the  devil,  and  that  in  that 
case  I  should  be  delivered  from  it  and  must  pray  frequently  to 
God.  He  and  all  his  penitents  did  the  same  continually,  with 
many  others;  and  I  myself,  like  many  more  whom  I  knew  to  be 
servants  of  God,  spent  the  whole  of  the  time  which  I  set  apart  for 
prayer  in  begging  His  Majesty  to  lead  me  by  another  path.  This 
went  on  for  perhaps  two  years,  during  the  whole  of  which  time 
I  made  this  petition  to  the  Lord. 

Nothing  was  any  comfort  to  me  when  I  reflected  that  words 
which  I  heard  might  so  often  be  coining  from  the  devil.  As  I 
never  now  spent  hours  of  solitude  in  prayer,  the  Lord  caused  me 
to  be  recollected  in  conversation.  He  would  say  what  He  pleased 
to  me  and  I  could  do  nothing  against  Him:  much  as  it  troubled 
me  to  do  so,  therefore,  I  had  to  listen. 

Now  when  I  was  alone,  and  had  no  one  in  whose  company  I 
could  find  relaxation,  I  was  unable  to  pray  or  read,  but  was  like 
a  person  stunned  by  all  this  tribulation  and  fear  that  the  devil 
might  be  deceiving  me,  and  quite  upset  and  worn  out,  with  not 
the  least  idea  what  to  do.  I  have  sometimes — often,  indeed — 
found  myself  in  this  kind  of  affliction,  but  never,  I  think,  have  I 
been  in  such  straits  as  I  was  then.  I  was  like  this  for  four  or  five 
hours,  and  neither  in  Heaven  nor  on  earth  was  there  any  comfort 
for  me:  the  Lord  permitted  my  fears  of  a  thousand  perils  to  cause 
me  great  suffering.  O  my  Lord,  how  true  a  Friend  Thou  art, 
and  how  powerful!  For  Thou  canst  do  all  Thou  wilt  and  never 
dost  Thou  cease  to  will  if  we  love  Thee.1  Let  all  things  praise 
Thee,  Lord  of  the  world.  Oh,  if  someone  would  but  proclaim 
throughout  the  world  how  faithful  Thou  art  to  Thy  friends !  All 
things  fail,  but  Thou,  Lord  of  them  all,  failest  never.  Little  is  the 
suffering  that  Thou  dost  allow  to  those  who  love  Thee.  O  my 
Lord,  how  delicately  and  skilfully  and  delectably  canst  Thou 
deal  with  them!  Oh,  would  that  we  had  never  stayed  to  love 
anyone  save  Thee!  Thou  seemest,  Lord,  to  give  severe  tests  to 
those  who  love  Thee,  but  only  that  in  the  extremity  of  their  trials 
they  may  learn  the  greater  extremity  of  Thy  love. 

O  my  God,  had  I  but  understanding  and  learning  and  new 
words  with  which  to  exalt  Thy  works  as  my  soul  knows  them! 
All  these,  my  Lord,  I  lack,  but  if  Thou  forsakest  me  not,  I 
shall  never  fail  Thee.s  Let  all  learned  men  rise  up  against  me, 
let  all  created  things  persecute  me,  let  the  devils  torment  me, 

1  pfhe  verb  translated  "wilt",  "will"  and  "love"  is  quercr:  the  play  upon  words 
cannot  be  satisfactorily  rendered,] 

*[The  verb  is /a/tar,  translated  "lack"  and  "fail"  in  this  half-punmng  sentence, 
and  "fell"  below.  One  might  render:  "All  these,  my  Lord,  I  lack,  but  .  .  .  Thou 
shalt  never  lack  me."] 


1 64  LIFE  [CHAP. 

but  fail  Thou'  me  not,  Lord,  for  I  have  already  experience  of 
the  benefits  which  come  to  him  who  trusts  only  in  Thee  and 
whom  Thou  'deliverest.  When  I  was  in  this  terrible  state  of  ex- 
haustion— for  at  that  time  I  had  not  yet  had  a  single  vision — 
these  words  alone  were  sufficient  to  remove  it  and  give  me  com- 
plete tranquillity:  "Be  not  afraid,  daughter,  for  it  is  I  and  I  will 
not  forsake  thee:  fear  not," 

In  the  state  I  was  in  at  that  time,  I  think  it  would  have  needed 
many  hours  to  persuade  me  to  be  calm  and  no  single  person 
would  have  sufficed  to  do  so.  Yet  here  I  was,  calmed  by  nothing 
but  these  words,  and  given  fortitude  and  courage  and  conviction 
and  tranquillity  and  light,  so  that  in  a  moment  I  found  my  soul 
transformed  and  I  think  I  would  have  maintained  against  the 
whole  world  that  this  was  the  work  of  God.  Oh,  what  a  good  God! 
Oh,  what  a  good  Lord!  What  a  powerful  Lord!  He  gives  not 
only  counsel  but  solace.  His  words  are  deeds.  See  how  He 
strengthens  our  faith  and  how  our  love  increases ! 

-This  is  very  true,  and  I  would  often  recall  how  when  a  storm 
arose  the  Lord  used  to  command  the  winds  that  blew  over  the 
sea  to  be  still,  and  I  would  say  to  myself:  "Who  is  this,  that  all 
my  faculties  thus  obey  Him1 — Who  in  a  moment  sheds  light 
upon  such  thick  darkness,  softens  a  heart  that  seemed  to  be  made 
of  stone,  and  sends  water  in  the  shape  of  gentle  tears  where  for 
so  long  there  had  seemed  to  be  aridity?  Who  gives  these  desires? 
Who  gives  this  courage?  What  have  I  been  thinking  of?  What 
am  I  afraid  of?  What  is  this?  I  desire  to  serve  the  Lord;  I  aim 
at  nothing  else  than  pleasing  Him.  I  seek  no  contentment,  no 
rest,  no  other  blessing  but  to  do  His  will."  I  felt  I  was  quite 
sure  about  this  and  so  could  affirm  it. 

"Well,  now,"  I  went  on,  "if  this  Lord  is  powerful,  as  I  see  He 
is,  and  know  He  is,  and  if  the  devils  are  His  slaves  (and  of  that 
there  can  be  no  doubt,  for  it  is  an  article  of  the  Faith),  what  harm 
can  they  do  me,  who  am  a  servant  of  this  Lord  and  King?  How 
can  I  fail  to  have  fortitude  enough  to  fight  against  all  hell?  "  So 
I  took  a  cross  in  my  hand  and  it  really  seemed  that  God  was 
giving  me  courage:  in  a  short  time  I  found  I  was  another  person 
and  I  should  not  have  been  afraid  to  wrestle  with  devils,  for  with 
the  aid  of  that  cross  I  believed  I  could  easily  vanquish  them 
all*  "Gome  on,  now,  all  of  you,0  I  said:  "I  am  a  servant  of  the 
Lord  and  I  want  to  see  what  you  can  do  to  me/' 

It  certainly  seemed  as  if  I  had  frightened  all  these  devils, 
for  I  became  quite  calm  and  had  no  more  fear  of  them — in  fact, 
I  lost  all  the  fears  which  until  then  had:  been  wont  to  trouble  me. 

1  [Evidently  a  reference  to  the  miracle  recorded  ux  St.  Matthew  vni,  23-7  St 
x^orfc  iv.  ftei-Ao  and  St.  Luke  viii3 - 


XXV]  LIFE  165 

For,  although  I  used  sometimes  to  see  the  devils,  as  I  shall  say 
later,  I  have  hardly  ever  been  afraid  of  them  again — indeed,  they 
seem  to  be  afraid  of  me.  I  have  acquired  an  authority  over  them, 
bestowed  upon  me  by  the  Lord  of  all,  so  that  they  are  no  more 
trouble  to  me  now  than  flies.  They  seem  to  me  such  cowards — 
as  soon  as  they  see  that  anyone  despises  them  they  have  no 
strength  left.  They  are  enemies  who  can  make  a  direct  attack 
only  upon  those  whom  they  see  giving  in  to  them,  or  on  servants 
of  God  whom,  for  their  greater  good,  God  allows  to  be  tried 
and  tormented.  May  His  Majesty  be  pleased  to  make  us  fear 
Him  Whom  we  ought  to  fear1  and  understand  that  one  venial  sin 
can  do  us  greater  harm  than  all  the  forces  of  hell  combined — 
for  that  is  really  true. 

These  devils  keep  us  in  terror  because  we  make  ourselves  liable 
to  be  terrorized  by  contracting  other  attachments — to  honours, 
for  example,  and  to  possessions  and  pleasures.  When  this  happens, 
they  join  forces  with  us — since,  by  loving  and  desiring  what  we 
ought  to  hate,  we  become  our  own  enemies — and  they  will  do 
us  much  harm.  We  make  them  fight  against  us  with  our  own 
weapons,  which  we  put  into  their  hands  when  we  ought  to  be 
using  them  in  our  own  defence.  That  is  the  great  pity  of  it.  If 
only  we  will  hate  everything  for  God's  sake  and  embrace  the 
Cross  and  try  to  serve  Him  in  truth,  the  devil  will  fly  from  these 
truths  as  from  the  plague.  He  is  a  lover  of  lies  and  a  lie  himself.* 
He  will  have  no  truck  with  anyone  who  walks  in  truth.  When 
he  sees  that  such  a  person's  understanding  is  darkened,  he  gaily 
assists  him  to  become  completely  blind;  for  if  he  sees  anyone 
blind  enough  to  find  comfort  in  vanities — and  such  vanities! 
for  the  vanities  of  this  world  are  like  children's  playthings — he 
sees  that  he  is  indeed  a  child,  and  treats  him  as  one,  making  bold 
to  wrestle  with  him,  first  on  some  particular  occasion  and  then 
again  and  again. 

Please  God  I  be  not  one  of  these!  May  His  Majesty  help  me  to 
find  comfort  in  what  is  really  comfort,  to  call  honour  what  is 
really  honour  and  to  take  delight  in  what  is  really  delight — 
and  not  the  other  way  round.  Not  a  fig3  shall  I  care  then  for  all 
the  devils  in  hell :  it  is  they  who  wall  fear  me.  I  do  not  understand 
these  fears.  "Oh,  the  devil,  the  devil!"  we  say,  when  we  might 
be  saying  "God!  God!"  and  making  the  devil  tremble.  Of 
course  we  might,  for  we  know  he  cannot  move  a  finger  unless 

1  [An  apparent  reference  to  St.  Matthew,  x,  28.] 

*  [Clearly  St.  Teresa  has  here  in  mind  St.  Joim  viii,  44.] 

8  [The  fig,  or  "fico",  is  a  contemptuous  motion  which  we  should  make  by  a  "snap 
of  the  fingers"  but  which  in  sixteenth-century  Spain  was  made  by  holding  up  the 
closed  fist  with  the  thumb  showing  between  the  first  and  the  second  finger  (dear  ktgas), 
Cf.  p.  189,  below.] 


166  LIFE  [CHAP. 

the  Lord  permits  it.  Whatever  are  we  thinking  of?  I  am  quite 
sure  I  am  more  afraid  of  people  who  are  themselves  terrified 
of  the  devil  than  I  am  of  the  devil  himself.  For  he  cannot  harm 
me  in  the  least,  whereas  they,  especially  if  they  are  confessors, 
can  upset  people  a  great  deal,  and  for  several  years  they  were 
such  a  trial  to  me  that  I  marvel  now  that  I  was  able  to  bear 
it.  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  Who  has  been  of  such  real  help  to  me! 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

Continues  the  same  subject.  Goes  on  with  the  description  and  explanation 
of  things  which  befell  her  and  which  rid  her  of  her  fears  and  assured 
her  that  it  was  the  good  spirit  that  was  speaking  to  her. 

This  courage  which  the  Lord  gave  me  for  my  fight  with  the 
devils  I  look  upon  as  one  of  the  great  favours  He  has  bestowed 
upon  me;  for  it  is  most  unseemly  that  a  soul  should  act  like  a 
coward,  or  be  afraid  of  anything,  save  of  offending  God,  since 
we  have  a  King  Who  is  all-powerful  and  a  Lord  so  great  that  He 
can  do  everything  and  makes  everyone  subject  to  Him.  There 
is  no  need  for  us  to  fear  if,  as  I  have  said,  we  walk  truthfully  in 
His  Majesty's  presence  with  a  pure  conscience.  For  this  reason, 
as  I  have  said,  I  should  desire  always  to  be  fearful  so  that  I  may 
not  for  a  moment  offend  Him  Who  in  that  very  moment  may 
destroy  us.  If  His  Majesty  is  pleased  with  us,  there  is  none  of  our 
adversaries  who  will  not  wring  his  hands  in  despair.1  This, 
it  may  be  said,  is  quite  true,  but  what  soul  is  upright  enough  to 
please  Him  altogether?  It  is  for  this  reason,  it  will  be  said,  that 
we  are  afraid.  Certainly  there  is  nothing  upright  about  my  own 
soul:  it  is  most  wretched,  useless  and  full  of  a  thousand  miseries. 
But  the  ways  of  God  are  not  like  the  ways  'of  men.  He  under- 
stands our  weaknesses  and  by  means  of  strong  inward  instincts 
the  soul  is  made  aware  if  it  truly  loves  Him;  for  the  love  of  those 
who  reach  this  state  is  no  longer  hidden,  as  it  was  when  they  were 
beginners,  but  is  accompanied  by  the  most  vehement  impulses 
and  the  desire  to  see  God,  which  I  shall  describe  later  and 
have  described  already.  Everything  wearies  such  a  soul; 
everything  fatigues  it;  everything  tontfents  it.  There  is  no 
rest,  save  that  which  is  in  God,  or  comes  through  God,  which 
does  not  weary  it,  for  it  feels  its  true  rest  to  be  ,far  away,  and 
so  its  love  is  a  thing  most  evident,  which,  as  I  say,  cannot  be 
hidden. 

1  [The  Spanish  idiom  is  literally:  "who  will  not  dap  his  hands  to  his  head "], 


XXVI]  LIFE  167 

On  various  occasions  it  happened  that  I  found  myself  greatly 
tried  and  maligned  about  a  certain  matter,  to  which  I  shall 
refer  later,  by  almost  everyone  in  the  place  where  I  am  living 
and  by  my  Order.  I  was  greatly  distressed  by  the  numerous 
things  which  arose  to  take  away  my  peace  of  mind.  But  the 
Lord  said  to  me:  "Why  dost  thou  fear?  Knowest  thou  not  that 
I  am  all-powerful?  I  will  fulfil  what  I  have  promised  thee." 
And  shortly  afterwards  this  promise  was  in  fact  completely  ful- 
filled. But  even  at  that  time  I  began  at  once  to  feel  so  strong 
that  I  believe  I  could  have  set  out  on  fresh  undertakings,  even  if 
serving  Him  had  cost  me  further  trials  and  I  had  had  to  begin 
to  suffer  afresh.  This  has  happened  so  many  times  that  I  could 
not  count  them.  Often  He  has  uttered  words  of  reproof  to  me 
in  this  way,  and  He  does  so  still  when  I  commit  imperfections, 
which  are  sufficient  to  bring  about  a  soul's  destruction.  And 
His  words  always  help  me  to  amend  my  life,  for,  as  I  have  said, 
His  Majesty  supplies  both  counsel  and  remedy.  At  other  times 
the  Lord  recalls  my  past  sins  to  me,  especially  when  He  wishes 
to  grant  me  some  outstanding  favour,  so  that  my  soul  feds  as 
if  it  is  really  at  the  Judgment;  with  such  complete  knowledge 
is  the  truth  presented  to  it  that  it  knows  not  where  to  hide. 
Sometimes  these  locutions  warn  me  against  perils  to  myself  and 
to  others,  or  tell  me  of  things  which  are  to  happen  three  or  four 
years  hence:  there  have  been  many  of  these  and  they  have  all 
come  true — it  would  be  possible  to  detail  some  of  them.  There 
are  so  many  signs,  then,  which  indicate  that  these  locutions  come 
from  God  that  I  think  the  fact  cannot  be  doubted. 

The  safest  course  is  that  which  I  myself  follow:  if  I  did  not, 
I  should  have  no  peace — not  that  it  is  right  for  women  like 
ourselves  to  expect  any  peace,  since  we  are  not  learned,  but  if 
we  do  what  I  say  we  cannot  run  into  danger  and  are  bound  to 
reap  great  benefit,  as  the  Lord  has  often  told  me.  I  mean  that 
we  must  describe  the  whole  of  our  spiritual  experiences,  and  the 
favours  granted  us  by  the  Lord,  to  a  confessor  who  is  a  man  of 
learning,  and  obey  him.  This  I  have  often  done.  I  had  a  confessor 
who  used  to  mortify  me  a  great  deal  and  would  sometimes  distress 
and  try  me  greatly  by  unsettling  my  mind:  yet  I  believe  he  is  the 
confessor  who  has  done  me  most  good.1  TTiough  I  had  a  great 
love  for  him,  I  was  several  times  tempted  to  leave  him,  for  I 
thought  that  the  distress  he  caused  me  disturbed  my  prayer. 
But  each  time  I  determined  to  do  so,  I  realized  at  once  that  I 
must  not  and  I  received  a  reproof  from  God  which  caused  me 
more  confusion  that*  anything  done  by  my  confessor.  Sometimes, 
*>  what  with  the  questions  on  the  one  hand  and  the  reproofs  on 

1  P.  Baltasar  Alvarez. 


1 68  LIFE  [CHAP. 

the  other,  I  would  feel  quite  exhausted.  But  I  needed  them  all, 
for  my  will  was  not  bent  to  obedience.  Once  the  Lord  told  me 
that  I  was  not  obeying  unless  I  was  determined  to  suffer.  I 
must  fix  my  eyes  on  all  that  He  had  suffered  and  I  should  find 
everything  easy. 

A  confessor  to  whom  I  had  gone  in  my  early  days  once  advised 
me,  now  that  my  experiences  were  proved  to  be  due  to  the  good 
spirit,  to  keep  silence  and  say  nothing  about  them  to  anyone, 
as  it  was  better  to  be  quiet  about  such  things.  This  seemed  to 
me  by  no  means  bad  advice,  for  whenever  I  used  to  speak  about 
them  to  the  confessor,  I  would  be  so  distressed  and  feel  so  ashamed 
that  sometimes  it  hurt  me  more  to  talk  about  these  favours, 
especially  if  they  were  outstanding  ones,  than  to  confess  grievous 
sins,  for  I  thought  my  confessors  would  not  believe  me  and  would 
make  fun  of  me.  This  distressed  me  so  much  that  it  seemed  to 
me  I  was  treating  the  wonders  of  God  irreverently  by  talking 
about  them,  and  for  that  reason  I  wanted  to  keep  silence.  I 
then  found  out  that  I  had  been  very  badly  advised  by  that 
confessor  and  that  when  I  made  my  confession  I  must  on  no 
account  keep  back  anything:  if  I  obeyed  that  rule  I  should  be 
quite  safe,  whereas  otherwise  I  might  sometimes  be  deceived. 

Whenever  the  Lord  gave  me  some  command  in  prayer  and  the 
confessor  told  me  to  do  something  different,  the  Lord  Himself 
would  speak  to  me  again  and  teU  me  to  obey  Him;  and  His 
Majesty  would  then  change  the  confessor's  mind  so  that  he  came 
back  and  ordered  me  to  do  the  same  thing.  When  a  great  many 
books  written  in  Spanish  were  taken  from  us  and  we  were  for- 
bidden to  read  them,1  I  was  very  sorry,  for  the  reading  of  some 
of  them  gave  me  pleasure  and  I  could  no  longer  continue  this 
as  I  had  them  only  in  Latin.  Then  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "Be 
not  distressed,  for  I  will  give  thee  a  living  book."  I  could  not 
understand  why  this  had  been  said  to  me,  for  I  had  not  then  had 
any  visions.2  But  a  very  few  days  afterwards,  I  came  to  under- 
stand it  very  well,  for  what  I  saw  before  me  gave  me  so  much  to 
think  about  and  so  much  opportunity  for  recollection,  and  the 
Lord  showed  me  so  much  love  and  taught  me  by  so  many 
methods,  that  I  have  had  very  little  need  of  books — indeed,  hardly 
any.  His  Majesty  Himself  has  been  to  me  the  Book  in  which  I 
have  seen  what  is  true.  Blessed  be  such  a  Book,  which  leaves 
impressed  upon  us  what  we  are  to  read  and  do,  in  a  way  that  is 

1  In  1559,  Don  Fernando  de  Valdds,  Grand  Inquisitor  of  Spain,  published  an 
Index  of  books  of  which  he  forbade  the  reading,  and  this  included  not  only  heretical 
works,  but  also  a  great  many  devotional  books  written  in  Spanish  which  he  thought 
might  do  simple  souls  harm. 

1  [Unless  the  author  is  mistaken  about  this,  her  first  imaginary  vision  (sec  p.  1 79, 
below)  cannot  have  taken  place  before  January  25,  1560]. 


XXVI]  LIFE  169 

unforgettable!  Who  can  see  the  Lord  covered  with  wounds  and 
afflicted  with  persecutions  without  embracing  them,  loving  them 
and  desiring  them  for  himself?  Who  can  see  any  of  the  glory 
which  He  gives  to  those  who  serve  Him  without  recognizing 
that  anything  he  himself  can  do  and  suffer  is  absolutely  nothing 
compared  with  the  hope  of  such  a  reward?  Who  can  behold  the 
torments  suffered  by  the  damned  without  feeling  that  the  torments 
of  earth  are  by  comparison  pure  joy  and  realizing  how  much  we 
owe  to  the  Lord  for  having  so  often  delivered  us  from  damnation? 
As,  by  the  help  of  God,  I  shall  say  more  about  some  of  these 
things,  I  will  now  go  on  with  the  account  of  my  life.  May  it 
have  pleased  the  Lord  to  enable  me  to  make  clear  what  I  have  said. 
I  truly  believe  that  anyone  who  has  had  experience  of  it  will 
understand  it  and  see  that  I  have  succeeded  in  describing  some 
of  it;  but  I  shall  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  those  who  have  not 
think  it  all  nonsense.  The  fact  that  it  is  I  who  have  said  it  will 
be  enough  to  clear  them  from  blame,  and  I  myself  shall  blame 
no  one  who  may  so  speak  of  it.  May  the  Lord  grant  me  duly  to 
carry  out  His  will.  Amen. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Treats  of  another  way  in  which  the  Lord  teaches  the  soul  and  in  an 
admirable  manner  makes  His  will  plain  to  it  without  the  use  of  words. 
Describes  a  vision  and  a  great  favour,  not  imaginary,  granted  her 
by  the  Lord.  This  chapter  should  be  carefully  noted. 

Returning  to  the  account  of  my  life,  I  have  already  described 
my  great  distress  and  affliction  and  the  prayers  that  were  being 
made  for  me  that  the  Lord  would  lead  me  by  another  and  a 
surer  way,  since,  as  they  told  me,  there  was  so  much  doubt  about 
this  one.  The  truth  is  that,  though  I  was  beseeching  God  to  do 
this,  and  though  I  wished  very  much  I  could  desire  to  be  led  by 
another  way,  yet,  when  I  saw  how  much  my  soul  was  already 
benefiting.  I  could  not  possibly  desire  it,  except  occasionally 
when  I  was  troubled  by  the  things  that  were  being  said  to  me 
and  the  fears  with  which  I  was  being  inspired.  Still,  I  kept  on 
praying  for  it.  I  realized  that  I  was  completely  different;  so  I 
put  myself  into  God's  hands,  for  I  could  do  nothing  else:  He 
knew  what  was  good  for  me  and  it  was  for  Him  to  fulfil.  His  will 
in  me  in  all  things.  I  saw  that  this  road  was  leading  me  towards 
Heaven,  whereas  formerly  I  had  been  going  in  the  direction  ol 
helL  I  could  not  force  myself  to  desire  this  change  or  to  believe 


1 70  LIFE  [CHAP. 

that  I  was  being  led  by  the  devil;  I  did  my  best  to  believe  this, 
and  to  desire  the  change,  but  it  was  simply  impossible.  To  this 
end  I  offered  up  all  my  actions,  in  case  any  of  them  might  be 
good.  I  begged  the  Saints  to  whom  I  was  devoted  to  deliver  me 
from  the  devil.  I  made  novenas  and  commended  myself  to 
Saint  Hilarion  and  to  Saint  Michael  the  Angel,  for  whom, 
with  this  in  view,  I  conceived  a  fresh  devotion,  and  I  importuned 
many  other  Saints  so  that  the  Lord  might  show  me  the  truth — 
I  mean  so  that  they  might  prevail  with  His  Majesty  to  this 
purpose. 

At  the  end  of  two  years,  during  the  whole  of  which  time  both 
other  people  and  myself  were  continually  praying  for  what  I  have 
described — that  the  Lord  would  either  lead  me  by  another  way 
or  make  plain  the  truth :  and  these  locutions  which,  as  I  have  said, 
the  Lord  was  giving  me  were  very  frequent — I  had  the  following 
experience.  I  was  at  prayer  on  a  festival  of  the  glorious  Saint 
Peter  when  I  saw  Christ  at  my  side — or,  to  put  it  better,  I  was 
conscious  of  Him,  for  neither  with  the  eyes  of  the  body  nor  with 
those  of  the  soul  did  I  see  anything.  I  thought  He  was  quite 
close  to  me  and  I  saw  that  it  was  He  Who,  as  I  thought,  was 
speaking  to  me.  Being  completely  ignorant  that  visions  of  this 
kind  could  occur,  I  was  at  first  very  much  afraid,  and  did  nothing 
but  weep,  though,  as  soon  as  He  addressed  a  single  word  to  me  to 
reassure  me,  I  became  quiet  again,  as  I  had  been  before,  and  was 
quite  happy  and  free  from  fear.  All  the  time  Jesus  Christ  seemed 
to  be  beside  me,  but,  as  this  was  not  an  imaginary  vision,1 
I  could  not  discern  in  what  form:  what  I  felt  very  clearly  was 
that  all  the  time  He  was  at  my  right  hand,  and  a  witness  of 
everything  that  I  was  doing,  and  that,  whenever  I  became  slightly 
recollected  or  was  not  greatly  distracted,  I  could  not  but  be 
^ware  of  His  nearness  to  me. 

Sorely  troubled,  I  went  at  once  to  my  confessor,  to  tell  him 
about  it.  He  asked  me  in  what  form  I  had  seen  Him.  I  told 
him  that  I  had  not  seen  Him  at  all.  Then  he  asked  me  how  I 
knew  it  was  Christ.  I  told  him  that  I  did  not  know  how,  but  that 
I  could  not  help  realizing  that  He  was  beside  me,  and  that  I 
saw  and  felt  this  clearly;  that  when  in  the  Prayer  of  Quiet  my 
soul  was  now  much  more  deeply  and  continuously  recollected; 
that  the  effects  of  my  prayer  were  very  different  from  those  which 
I  had  previously  been  accustomed  to  experience;  and  that  the 
thing  was  quite  clear  to  me.  I  did  nothing,  in  my  efforts  to  make 
myself  understood,  but  draw  comparisons — though  really,  for 
describing  this  kind  of  vision, ,  there  is  no  comparison  which  is 
very  much  to  the  point,  for  it  is  one  of  the  highest  kinds  of  vision 

1  [On  various  types  of  vision,  see  Vol.  II,  p.  279,  n.,  below.} 


XXVII]  LIFE  171 

possible.  This  was  told  me  later  by  a  holy  man  of  great  spirituality 
called  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara,1  to  whom  I  shall  afterwards  refer, 
and  other  distinguished  and  learned  men  have  told  me  the  same 
thing.  Of  all  kinds  of  vision  it  is  that  in  which  the  devil  has  the 
least  power  of  interference,  and  so  there  are  no  ordinary  terms 
by  which  we  women,  who  have  so  little  knowledge,  can  describe 
it:  learned  men  will  explain  it  better.  For,  if  I  say  that  I  do  not 
see  Him  with  the  eyes  either  of  the  body  or  of  the  soul,  because 
it  is  not  an  imaginary  vision,  how  can  I  know  and  affirm  that  He 
is  at  my  side,  and  this  with  greater  certainty  than  if  I  were  to  see 
Him?  It  is  not  a  suitable  comparison  to  say  that  it  is  as  if  a 
person  were  in  the  dark,  so  that  he  cannot  see  someone  who  is 
beside  him,  or  as  if  he  were  blind.  There  is  some  similarity  here, 
but  not  a  great  deal,  because  the  person  in  the  dark  can  detect 
the  other  with  his  remaining  senses,  can  hear  him  speak  or  move, 
or  can  touch  him.  In  this  case  there  is  nothing  like  that,  nor 
is  there  felt  to  be  any  darkness — on  the  contrary,  He  presents 
Himself  to  the  soul  by  a  knowledge  brighter  than  the  sun,  I 
do  not  mean  that  any  sun  is  seen,  or  any  brightness  is  perceived, 
but  that  there  is  a  light  which,  though  not  seen,  illumines  the 
understanding  so  that  the  soul  may  have  fruition  of  so  great  a 
blessing.  It  brings  great  blessings  with  it. 

It  is  not  like  another  kind  of  consciousness  of  the  presence 
of  God  which  is  often  experienced,  especially  by  those  who  have 
reached  the  Prayer  of  Union  and  the  Prayer  of  Quiet.  There 
we  are  on  the  point  of  beginning  our  prayer  when  we  seem  to 
find  Him  Whom  we  are  about  to  address  and  we  seem  to  know 
that  He  is  hearing  us  by  the  spiritual  feelings  and  effects  of  great 
love  and  faith  of  which  we  become  conscious,  and  also  by  the 
fresh  resolutions  which  we  make  with  such  deep  emotion.  This 
great  favour  comes  from  God :  and  he  to  whom  it  is  granted  should 
esteem  it  highly,  for  it  is  a  very  lofty  form  of  prayer.  But  it  is 
not  a  vision.  The  soul  recognizes  the  presence  of  God  by  the 
effects  which,  as  I  say,  He  produces  in  the  soul,  for  it  is  by  that 
means  that  His  Majesty  is  pleased  to  make  His  presence  felt: 
but  in  a  vision  the  soul  distinctly  sees  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  Son 
of  the  Virgin,  is  present.  In  that  other  kind  of  prayer  there  come 
to  it  influences  from  the  Godhead;  but  in  this  experience,  besides 
receiving  these,  we  find  that  the  most  sacred  Humanity  becomes 
our  Companion  and  is  also  pleased  to  grant  us  favours. 
*  My  confessor  then  asked  me  who  told  me  it  was  Jesus  Christ. 
"He  often  tells  m6  so  Himself*',  I  replied;  "but,  before  ever 

1  This  Franciscan  saint  [of  whom  an  account  will  be  found  in  S£.M.9  II,  99-120] 
had  in  1540  initiated  a  Dfecalced  Reform  in  his  Order  not  unlike  that  afterwards 
begun  by  St.  Teresa.  Of.  pp.  176-8,  194^7,  below. 


LIFE  [CHAP. 

He  told  me  so,  the  fact  was  impressed  upon  my  understanding, 
and  before  that  He  used  to  tell  me  He  was  there  when  I  could  not 
see  Him."  If  I  were  blind,  or  in  pitch  darkness,  and  a  person 
whom  I  had  never  seen,  but  only  heard  of,  came  and  spoke  to 
me  and  told  me  who  he  was,  I  should  believe  him,  but  I  could  not 
affirm  that  it  was  he  as  confidently  as  if  I  had  seen  him.  But  in 
this  case  I  could  certainly  affirm  it,  for,  though  He  remains 
unseen,  so  clear  a  knowledge  is  impressed  upon  the  soul  that 
to  doubt  it  seems  quite  impossible.  The  Lord  is  pleased  that  this 
knowledge  should  be  so  deeply  engraven  upon  the  understanding 
that  one  can  no  more  doubt  it  than  one  can  doubt  the  evidence 
of  one's  eyes — indeed,  the  latter  is  easier,  for  we  sometimes  suspect 
that  we  have  imagined  what  we  see,  whereas  here,  though  that 
suspicion  may  arise  for  a  moment,  there  remains  such  complete 
certainty  that  the  doubt  has  no  force. 

It  is  the  same  with  another  way  in  which  God  teaches  the 
soul,  and  addresses  it  without  using  words,  as  I  have  said.  This 
is  so  celestial  a  language  that  it  is  difficult  to  explain  it  to  mortals, 
however  much  we  may  desire  to  do  so,  unless  the  Lord  teaches  it 
to  us  by  experience.  The  Lord  introduces  into  the  inmost  part 
of  the  soul  what  He  wishes  that  soul  to  understand,  and  presents 
it,  not  by  means  of  images  or  forms  of  words,  but  after  the  manner 
of  this  vision  aforementioned.  Consider  carefully  this  way  in 
which  God  causes  the  soul  to  understand  what  He  wills,  and  also 
great  truths  and  mysteries;  for  often  what  I  understand,  when  the 
Lord  expounds  to  me  some  vision  which  His  Majesty  is  pleased 
to  present  to  me,  comes  in  this  way;  for  the  reasons  I  have  given, 
I  think  this  is  the  state  in  which  the  devil  has  the  least  power  of 
interference.  If  the  reasons  are  not  good  ones,  I  must  be  suffer- 
ing from  deception. 

This  kind  of  vision  and  this  kind  of  language  are  such  spiritual 
things  that  I  believe  no  turmoil  is  caused  by  them  in  the  faculties, 
or  in  the  senses,  from  which  the  devil  can  pluck  any  advantage. 
They  occur  only  from  time  to  time  and  are  quickly  over;  at  other 
times,  as  I  think,  the  faculties  are  not  suspended,  nor  is  the  soul 
bereft  of  its  senses,  but  these  remain  active,  which  in  contemplation 
is  not  always  the  case — it  happens,  indeed,  very  seldom.  When  it 
is  the  case,  I  believe  that  we  ourselves  do  nothing  and  accomplish 
nothing — the  whole  thing  seems  to  be  the  work  of  the  Lord. 
It  is  as  if  food  has  been  introduced  into  the  stomach  without 
our  having  eaten  it  or  knowing  how  it  got  there.  We  know  quite 
well  that  it  is  there,  although  we  do  not  know  what  it  is  or  who 
put  it  there.  In  this  experience,  I  do  know  Who  put  it  there, 
but  not  how  He  did  so,  for  my  soul  saw  nothing  and  cannot 
understand  how  the  operation  took  place;  it  had  never  been 


XXVII]  LIFE  173 

moved  to  desire  such  a  thing,  nor  had  it  even  come  to  my  know- 
ledge that  it  was  possible. 

In  the  locutions  which  we  described  previously,  God  makes 
the  understanding  attentive,  even  against  its  will,  so  that  it 
understands  what  is  said  to  it,  for  the  soul  now  seems  to  have 
other  ears  with  which  it  hears  and  He  makes  it  listen  and  prevents 
it  from  becoming  distracted.  It  is  like  a  person  with  good  hearing, 
who  is  forbidden  to  stop  his  ears  when  people  near  him  are  talking 
in  a  loud  voice :  even  if  he  were  unwilling  to  hear  them,  he  could 
not  help  doing  so.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  does  play  a  part  in  the 
process,  because  he  is  attending  to  what  they  are  saying.  But  in 
this  experience  the  soul  does  nothing,  for  even  the  mere  insigni- 
ficant ability  to  listen,  which  it  has  possessed  until  now,  is  taken 
from  it.  It  finds  all  its  food  cooked  and  eaten:  it  has  nothing  to 
do  but  to  enjoy  it.  It  is  like  one  who,  without  having  learned 
anything,  or  having  taken  the  slightest  trouble  in  order  to  learn 
to  read,  or  even  having  ever  studied,  finds  himself  in  possession 
of  all  existing  knowledge;  he  has  no  idea  how  or  whence  it  has 
come,  since  he  has  never  done  any  work,  even  so  much  as  was 
necessary  for  the  learning  of  the  alphabet. 

This  last  comparison,  I  think,  furnishes  some  sort  of  explanation 
of  this  heavenly  gift,  for  the  soul  suddenly  finds  itself  learned,  and 
the  mystery  of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity,  together  with  other  lofty 
things,  is  so  clearly  explained  to  it  that  there  is  no  theologian 
with  whom  it  would  not  have  the  boldness  to  contend  in  defence 
of  the  truth  of  these  marvels.  So  astounded  is  the  soul  at  what 
has  happened  to  it  that  a  single  one  of  these  favours  suffices  to 
change  it  altogether  and  make  it  love  nothing  save  Him  Who, 
without  any  labour  on  its  part,  renders  it  capable  of  receiving 
such  great  blessings,  and  communicates  secrets  to  it  and  treats 
it  with  such  friendship  and  love  as  is  impossible  to  describe. 
For  some  of  the  favours  which  He  bestows  upon  it,  being  so 
wonderful  in  themselves  and  granted  to  one  who  has  not  deserved 
them,  may  be  regarded  with  suspicion,  and  they  will  not  be 
believed  save  by  one  who  has  a  most  lively  faith.  So  unless  I  am 
commanded  to  say  more  I  propose  to  refer  only  to  a  few  of  those 
which  the  Lord  has  granted  me;  I  shall  confine  myself  to  certain 
visions  an  account  of  which  may  be  of  some  use  to  others,  may 
stop  anyone  to  whom  the  Lord  gives  them  from  thinking  them 
impossible,  as  I  used  to  do,  and  may  explain  to  such  a  person 
the  method  and  the  road  by  which  the  Lord  has  led  me,  for  that 
is  the  subject  on  which  I  am  commanded  to  write. 

Now,  returning  to  this  method  of  understanding,  the  position 
seems  to  me  to  be  that  the  Lord's  will  is  for  the  soul  to  have  at 
any  rate  some  idea  of  what  is  happening  in  Heaven,  and,  just  as 


174  LIFE  [CHAP. 

souls  in  Heaven  understand  one  another  without  speaking  (which 
I  never  knew  for  certain  till  the  Lord  in  His  goodness  willed  me 
to  see  it  and  revealed  it  to  me  in  a  rapture),  even  so  it  is  here. 
God  and  the  soul  understand  each  other,  simply  because  this  is 
His  Majesty's  will,  and  no  other  means  is  necessary  to  express 
the  mutual  love  of  these  two  friends.  Just  so,  in  this  life,  two 
persons  of  reasonable  intelligence,  who  love  each  other  dearly, 
seem  able  to  understand  each  other  without  making  any  signs, 
merely  by  their  looks.  This  must  be  so  here,  for,  without  seeing 
each  other,  we  look  at  each  other  face  to  face  as  these  two  lovers 
do:  the  Spouse  in  the  Songs,  I  believe,  says  this  to  the  Bride: 
I  have  been  told  that  it  occurs  there.1 

O  wondrous  loving-kindness  of  God,  Who  permittest  Thyself 
to  be  looked  upon  by  eyes  which  have  looked  on  things  as  sinfully 
as  have  the  eyes  of  my  soul!  After  this  sight,  Lord,  may  they 
never  more  accustom  themselves  to  look  on  base  things  and  may 
nothing  content  them  but  Thee.  O  ingratitude  of  mortal  men ! 
How  far  will  it  go?  I  know  by  experience  that  all  I  am  saying 
now  is  true  and  that  what  it  is  possible  to  say  is  the  smallest  part 
of  what  Thou  doest  with  a  soul  that  Thou  leadest  to  such  heights 
as  this,  O  souls  that  have  begun  to  pray  and  that  possess  true 
faith,  what  blessings  can  you  find  in  this  life  to  equal  the  least  of 
these,  to  say  nothing  of  tie  blessings  you  may  gain  in  eternity? 

Reflect — for  this  is  the  truth — that  to  those  who  give  up  every- 
thing for  Him  God  gives  Himself.  He  is  not  a  respecter  of  per- 
sons.2 He  loves  us  all:  no  one,  however  wicked,  can  be  excluded 
from  His  love  since  He  has  dealt  in  such  a  way  with  me  and 
brought  me  to  so  high  a  state.  Reflect  that  what  I  am  saying 
is  barely  a  fraction  of  what  there  is  to  say.  I  have  only  said  what 
is  necessary  to  explain  the  kind  of  vision  and  favour  which  God 
bestows  on  the  soul;  but  I  cannot  describe  the  soul's  feelings  when 
the  Lord  grants  it  an  understanding  of  His  secrets  and  wonders — 
a  joy  so  far  above  all  joys  attainable  on  earth  that  it  fills  us 
with  a  just  contempt  for  the  joys  of  life,  all  of  which  are  but  dung. 
It  is  loathsome  to  have  to  make  any  such  comparison,  even  if  we 
might  enjoy  them  for  ever.  And  what  are  these  joys  that  the 
Lord  gives?  Only  a  single  drop  of  the  great  and  abundant  river 
which  He  has  prepared  for  us. 

It  makes  one  ashamed,  and  certainly  I  am  ashamed  of  myself: 
if  it  were  possible  to  be  ashamed  in  Heaven,  I  should  be  more  so 
than  anyone  else.  Why  must  we  desire  so  many  blessings  and 

1  Canticles  vi,  2  or  vi,  4  is  probably  meant,  but  the  reminiscence  is  a  vague  one 
and  several  other  phrases  in  the  same  book  might  have  been  in  St.  Teresa's  mind. 

*JZ&:  "accepter"  (acetador),  but  the  context  suggests  a  reference  to  Acts  x.  34.. 
(D.V.;  "God  is  not  a  respecter  of  persons.")] 


XXVII]  LIFE  175 

joys,  and  everlasting  glory,  all  at  the  cost  of  the  good  Jesus? 
If  we  are  not  helping  Him  to  cany  His  Gross  with  the  Cyrenean, 
shall  we  not  at  least  weep  with  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem?1 
Will  pleasures  and  pastimes  lead  us  to  the  fruition  of  what  He 
won  for  us  at  the  cost  of  so  much  blood?  That  is  impossible. 
And  do  we  think  that  by  accepting  vain  honours  we  shall  be 
following  Him  Who  was  despised  so  that  we  might  reign  for  ever? 
That  is  not  the  right  way.  We  are  going  astray,  far  astray: 
we  shall  never  reach  our  goal.  Proclaim  these  truths  aloud. 
Your  Reverence,  since  God  has  denied  me  the  freedom  to  do  so 
myself.  I  should  like  to  proclaim  them  for  ever,  but,  as  will  be 
seen  from  what  I  have  written,  it  was  so  long  before  God  heard 
me  and  I  came  to  know  Him  that  it  makes  me  very  much  ashamed 
to  speak  of  it  and  I  prefer  to  keep  silence;  so  I  shall  only  speak 
of  something  about  which  I  meditate  from  time  to  time. 

May  it  please  the  Lord  to  bring  me  to  a  state  in  which  I  can 
enjoy  this  blessing.  What  will  be  the  accidental  glory  and  what 
the  joy  of  the  blessed  who  already  have  fruition  of  it  when  they 
see  that,  late  as  they  were,  they  left  nothing  undone  that  they 
could  possibly  do  for  God,  and  kept  back  nothing,  but  gave  to 
Him  in  every  possible  way,  according  to  their  power  and  their 
position;  and  the  more  they  had,  the  more  they  gave!  How  rich 
will  he  find  himself  who  has  forsaken  all  his  riches  for  Christ! 
What  honour  will  be  paid  to  those  who  for  His  sake  desired  no 
honour  but  took  pleasure  in  seeing  themselves  humbled!  What 
wisdom  will  be  attributed  to  the  man  who  rejoiced  at  being 
accounted  mad,  since  madness  was  attributed  to  Him  Who  is 
Wisdom  itself.  How  few  such,  through  our  sins,  are  there  now! 
Alas,  alas!  No  longer  are  there  any  whom  men  account  mad 
because  they  see  them  perform  the  heroic  deeds  proper  to 
true  lovers  of  Christ.  O  world,  world!  How  much  of  thy 
reputation  dost  thou  acquire  because  of  the  few  there  are  who 
know  thee! 

For  we  believe  that  God  is  better  pleased  when  we  are  accounted 
wise  and  discreet.  That  may  be  so:  it  all  depends  on  what  we 
mean  by  discretion.  We  at  once  assume  that  we  are  failing  to 
edify  others  if  each  one  of  us  in  his  calling  does  not  comport 
himself  with  great  circumspection  and  make  a  show  of  authority. 
Even  in  the  friar,  the  cleric  and  the  nun  we  think  it  very  strange 
and  a  scandal  to  the  weak  if  they  wear  old,  patched  clothes,  or 
even  (to  such  a  pass  has  the  world  come  and  so  forgetful  are  we 
of  the  vehement  longings  which  the  saints  had  for  perfection) 
if  they  are  greatly  recollected  and  given  to  prayer.  The  world 
is  bad  enough  nowadays  without  being  made  worse  by  things  like 

1fSt.  Lukcxmi,  a6y  28.] 


176  LIFE  [CHAP. 

this.1  No  scandal  would  be  caused  to  anyone  if  religious  put 
into  practice  what  they  say  about  the  little  esteem  in  which  the 
world  should  be  held,  for  the  Lord  turns  any  such  scandals  as 
these  to  great  advantage.  If  some  were  scandalized,  too,  others 
would  be  struck  with  remorse;  and  we  should  at  least  have  a 
picture  of  what  was  suffered  by  Christ  and  His  Apostles,  which 
we  need  now  more  than  ever. 

And  what  a  grand  picture  of  it  has  God  just  taken  from  us 
in  the  blessed  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara!2  The  world  is  not  yet  in  a 
fit  state  to  bear  such  perfection.  It  is  said  that  people's  health  is 
feebler  nowadays  and  that  times  are  not  what  they  were.  But 
it  was  in  these  present  times  that  this  holy  man  lived;  and  yet 
his  spirit  was  as  robust  as  any  in  the  days  of  old,  so  that  he  was 
able  to  keep  the  world  beneath  his  feet.  And,  although  everyone 
does  not  go  about  unshod3  or  perform  such  severe  penances 
as  he  did,  there  are  many  ways,  as  I  have  said  on  other  occasions, 
of  trampling  on  the  world  and  these  ways  the  Lord  teaches  to 
those  in  whom  He  sees  courage.  And  what  great  courage  His 
Majesty  gave  to  this  holy  man  to  perform  those  severe  penances, 
which  are  common  knowledge,  for  forty-seven  years  I  I  will 
say  something  about  this,  for  I  know  it  is  all  true. 

He  told  this  to  me,  and  to  another  person  from  whom  he 
concealed  little45 — the  reason  he  told  me  was  his  love  for  me,  for 
the  Lord  was  pleased  to  give  him  this  love  so  that  he  might  stand 
up  for  me  and  encourage  me  at  a  time  of  great  need,  of  which  I 
have  spoken  and  shall  speak  further.  I  think  it  was  for  forty 
years  that  he  told  me  he  had  slept  only  for  an  hour  and  a  half 
between  each  night  and  the  next  day,  and  that,  when  he  began, 
the  hardest  part  of  his  penance  had  been  the  conquering  of  sleep, 
for  which  reason  he  was  always  either  on  his  knees  or  on  his  feet. 
What  sleep  he  had  he  took  sitting  down,  with  his  head  resting 
against  a  piece  of  wood  that  he  had  fixed  to  the  wall*  Sleep  lying 
down  he  could  not,  even  if  he  had  so  wished,  for  his  cell,  as  is  well 
known,  was  only  four  and  a  half  feet  long.  During  all  these  years, 
however  hot  the  sun  or  heavy  the  rain,  he  never  wore  his  hood,  or 
anything  on  his  feet,  and  his  only  dress  was  a  habit  of  sackcloth, 
with  nothing  between  it  and  his  flesh,  and  this  he  wore  as  tightly 
as  he  could  bear,  with  a  mantle  of  tie  same  material  above  it. 

1  [This  sentence  is  a  free  translation  of  one  of  the  most  obscure  a^d  ungrammatical 
sentences  in  St.  Teresa.  One  can  only  guess  at  its  precise  meaning,  but  there  is  no 
doubt  as  to  its  general  sense.] 

8  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara  died  on  October  18,  1562  [a  fact  which  would  be  useful 
in  helping  to  fix  the  date  of  this  book  were  there  not  references  to  later  events  below! 

»[!**.:  naked].  <  J 

*  This  was  his  penitent  Mada  Diaz,  a  well-to-do  woman  of  great  saintliness  who 
lived  a  life  of  Franciscan  poverty  and  charity  in  Avila  and  to  whom  St.  Teresa  alludes 
by  name  more  than  once  [e.g,3  Letters,  10,  403],  describing  her  as  a  saint. 


XXVII]  LIFE  J77 

He  told  me  that,  when  it  was  very  cold,  he  would  take  off  the 
mantle,  and  leave  the  door  and  window  of  his  cell  open,  so  that, 
when  he  put  it  on  again  and  shut  the  door,  he  could  derive  some 
physical  satisfaction  from  the  increased  protection.  It  was  a 
very  common  thing  for  him  to  take  food  only  once  in  three  days. 
He  asked  me  why  I  was  so  surprised  at  this  and  said  that,  when 
one  got  used  to  it,  it  was  quite  possible,  A  companion  of  his  told 
me  that  sometimes  he  would  go  for  a  week  without  food.  That 
must  have  been  when  he  was  engaged  in  prayer,  for  he  used  to 
have  great  raptures  and  violent  impulses  of  love  for  God,  of  which 
I  was  myself  once  a  witness. 

His  poverty  was  extreme,  and  so,  even  when  he  was  quite  young, 
was  his  mortification:  he  told  me  that  he  once  spent  three  years 
in  a  house  of  his  Order  and  could  not  have  recognized  a  single 
friar  there,  except  by  his  voice,  for  he  never  raised  his  eyes,  and 
so,  when  he  had  to  go  to  any  part  of  the  house,  could  only  do  so 
by  following  the  other  friars.  It  was  the  same  thing  out  of  doors. 
At  women  he  never  looked  at  all  and  this  was  his  practice  for 
many  years.  He  told  me  that  it  was  all  the  same  to  him  now 
whether  he  saw  anything  or  not;  but  he  was  very  old  when  I 
made  his  acquaintance1  and  so  extremely  weak  that  he  seemed  to 
be  made  of  nothing  but  roots  of  trees.  But  with  all  this  holiness 
he  was  very  affable,  though,  except  when  answering  questions, 
a  man  of  few  words.  When  he  did  speak  it  was  a  delight  to  listen 
to  him,  for  he  was  extremely  intelligent.  There  are  many  other 
things  which  I  should  like  to  say  about  him  but  I  am  afraid 
Your  Reverence  will  ask  why  I  am  starting  on  this  subject — 
indeed,  I  have  been  afraid  of  that  even  while  writing.  So  I  will 
stop  here,  adding  that  he  died  as  he  had  lived,  preaching  to, 
and  admonishing,  his  brethren.  When  he  saw  that  his  life  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  he  repeated  the  psalm  "Laetatus  sum  in  his 
quae  dicta  sunt  mihi",2  and  then  knelt  down  and  died. 

Since  his  death  it  has  been  the  Lord's  good  pleasure  that  I 
should  have  more  intercourse  with  Jiim  than  I  had  during  his 
life  and  that  he  should  advise  me  on  many  subjects.  I  have 
often  beheld  him  in  the  greatest  bliss.  The  first  time  he 
appeared  to  me  he  remarked  on  the  blessedness  of  the  penance 
that  had  won  him  so  great  a  prize,  and  he  spoke  of  many  other 
things  as  well.  One  of  his  appearances  to  me  took  place  a  year 
before  his  death.  I  was  away  at  the  time ;  and,  knowing  he  was  soon 
to  die,  I  told  him  so,  when  he  was  some  leagues  from  here. 
When  he  expired,  he  appeared  to  me  and  said  that  he  was 

1  [Actually  he  was  fifty-nine], 

*  Psalm  cxxi.  i  [A.V.,  cxxii.  i]:  "I  rejoiced  at  the  things  that  were  said  to  me: 
We  shall  go  into  the  house  of  the  Lord." 


1 78  LIFE  [CHAP. 

going  to  rest.  I  did  not  believe  this,  but  repeated  it  to  a  number 
of  people  and  in  a  week  came  the  news  that  he  was  dead — or, 
to  put  it  better,  that  he  had  entered  upon  eternal  life. 

See,  then,  how  this  austere  life  has  ended  in  great  glory.  He 
is  a  much  greater  comfort  to  me,  I  think,  than  when  he  was 
on  earthy  The  Lord  once  told  me  that  no  one  should  ask  Him 
for  anything  in  his  name  and  not  be  heard.  Many  things  which 
I  have  commended  to  him  so  that  he  should  ask  the  Lord  for 
them  I  have  seen  granted.  Blessed  be  He  for  ever!  Amen. 

But  what  a  lot  I  have  been  saying  in  order  to  incite  Your 
Reverence  to  pay  no  esteem  to  the  things  of  this  life,  as  though 
you  did  not  know  this  already  and  had  not  already  determined 
to  forsake  everything  and  put  your  determination  into  practice. 
I  see  so  many  people  in  the  world  going  to  perdition  that,  al- 
though when  I  speak  in  this  way  I  may  succeed  only  in  tiring  myself 
by  writing,  it  is  a  comfort  to  me,  for  everything  I  say  tells  against 
myself.  May  the  Lord  forgive  me  for  anything  in  which  I  have 
offended  Him  in  this  matter,  and  may  Your  Reverence  also 
forgive  me,  for  I  am  wearying  you  to  no  purpose.  It  looks  as 
if  I  want  to  make  you  do  penance  for  the  sins  which  I  have 
myself  committed. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

Treats  of  the  great  favours  which  the  Lord  bestowed  upon  her>  and  of 
His  first  appearance  to  her.    Describes  the  nature  of  an  imaginary 
vision.   Enumerates  the  important  effects  and  signs  which  this  pro-' 
duces  when  it  proceeds  from  God.   This  chapter  is  very  profitable  and 
should  be  carefully  noted. 

Returning  to  our  subject:  I  spent  some  days,  though  only  a 
few,  with  that  vision  continually  in  my  mind,  and  it  did  me  so 
much  good  that  I  remained  in  prayer  unceasingly  and  con- 
trived that  everything  I  did  should  be  such  as  not  to  displease 
Him  Who,  as  I  clearly  perceived,  was  a  witness  of  it.  And, 
although  I  was  given  so  much  advice  that  I  sometimes  became 
afraid,  my  fear  was  short-lived,  for  the  Lord  reassured  me.  One 
day,  when  I  was  at  prayer,  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  reveal  to 
me  nothing  but  His  hands,  the  beauty  of  which  was  so  great 
as  to  be  indescribable.  This  made  me  very  fearful,  as  does  every 
new  experience  that  I  have  when  the  Lord  is  beginning  to 
grant  me  some  supernatural  favour.  A  few  days  later  I  also 
saw  that  Divine  face,  which  seemed  to  leave  me  completely 
absorbed.  I  could  not  understand  why  the  Lord  revealed  Him- 


XXVIII]  LIFE  179 

self  gradually  like  this  since  He  was  later  to  grant  me  the  favour 
of  seeing  Him  wholly,  until  at  length  I  realized  that  His  Majesty 
was  leading  me  according  to  my  natural  weakness.  May  He 
be  blessed  for  ever,  for  so  much  glory  all  at  once  would  have 
been  more  than  so  base  and  wicked  a  person  could  bear:  knowing 
this,  the  compassionate  Lord  prepared  me  for  it  by  degrees. 

Your  Reverence  may  suppose  that  it  would  have  needed  no 
great  effort  to  behold  those  hands  and  that  beauteous  face.  But 
there  is  such  beauty  about  glorified  bodies  that  the  glory  which 
illumines  them  throws  all  who  look  upon  such  supernatural 
loveliness  into  confusion.  I  was  so  much  afraid,  then,  that  I 
was  plunged  into  turmoil  and  confusion,  though  later  I  began 
to  feel  such  certainty  and  security  that  my  fear  was  soon  lost. 

One  year,  on  Saint  Paul's  Day1,  when  I  was  at  Mass,  I  saw 
a  complete  representation  of  this  most  sacred  Humanity,  just 
as  in  a  picture  of  His  resurrection  body,  in  very  great  beauty 
and  majesty;  this  I  described  in  detail  to  Your  Reverence  in 
writing,  at  your  very  insistent  request.  It  distressed  me  terribly 
to  have  to  do  so,  for  it  is  impossible  to  write  such  a  description 
without  a  disruption  of  one's  very  being,  but  I  did  the  best  I 
could  and  so  there  is  no  reason  for  me  to  repeat  the  attempt 
here.  I  will  only  say  that,  if  there  were  nothing  else  in  Heaven 
to  delight  the  eyes  but  the  extreme  beauty  of  the  glorified  bodies 
there,  that  alone  would  be  the  greatest  bliss.  A  most  especial 
bliss,  then,  will  it  be  to  us  when  we  see  the  Humanity  of  Jesus 
Christ;  for,  if  it  is  so  even  on  earth,  where  His  Majesty  reveals 
Himself  according  to  what  our  wretchedness  can  bear,  what 
will  it  be  where  the  fruition  of  that  joy  is  complete?  Although 
this  vision  is  imaginary,  I  never  saw  it,  or  any  other  vision, 
with  the  eyes  of  the  body,  but  only  with  the  eyes  of  the  soul. 

Those  who  know  better  than  I  say  that  the  type  of  vision 
already  described2  is  nearer  perfection  than  this,  while  this  in 
its  turn  is  much  more  so 'than  those  which  are  seen  with  the 
eyes  of  the  body.  The  last-named  type,  they  say,  is  the  lowest 
and  the  most  open  to  delusions  from  the  devil.  At  that  time 
I  was  not  aware  of  this,  and  wished  that,  as  this  favour  was 
being  granted  me,  it  could  have  been  of  such  a  kind  as  was 
visible  to  the  eyes  of  the  body,  and  then  my  confessor  would 
not  tell  me  I  was  imagining  it.  And  no  sooner  had  the  vision 
faded — the  very  moment,  indeed,  after  it  had  gone — than  I 
began  to  think  the  same  thing  myself-— that  I  had  imagined 

1  [P.  Silverio  dates  this  occurrence  January  25,  1558,  but  a  reference  in  Chap. 
XXVI  (p.  1 68,  above)  suggests  that  it  was  subsequent  to  1559.  A  farther  allusion 
(p.  189,  below)  would  indicate  June  29  or  30  rather  than  January  25.] 

*  [I.e.,  the  intellectual  vision.  By  **this",  of  course,  is  meant  the  imaginary  vision.] 


180  LIFE  [CHAP. 

it — and  was  worried  at  having  spoken  about  it  to  my  confessor 
and  wondered  if  I  had  been  deceiving  him.  Here  was  another 
cause  for  distress,  so  I  went  to  him  and  consulted  him  about  it. 
He  asked  me  if  I  had  told  him  what  the  vision  really  looked 
like  to  me  or  if  I  had  meant  to  deceive  him.  I  said  I  had  told 
him  the  truth,  for  I  felt  sure  I  had  not  been  lying  or  had  had 
any  such  intention;  I  would  not  think  one  thing  and  say  another 
for  the  whole  world.  This  he  well  knew,  and  so  he  managed 
to  calm  me.  It  worried  me  so  much  to  have  to  go  to  him  about 
these  things  that  I  cannot  imagine  how  the  devil  could  ever 
have  suggested  to  me  that  I  must  be  inventing  them  and  thus 
be  torturing  myself.  But  the  Lord  made  such  haste  to  grant  me 
this  favour  and  to  make  its  reality  plain  that  my  doubt  about 
its  being  fancy  left  me  immediately  and  since  then  it  has  become 
quite  clear  to  me  how  silly  I  was.  For,  if  I  were  to  spend  years 
and  years  imagining  how  to  invent  anything  so  beautiful,  I 
could  not  do  it,  and  I  do  not  even  know  how  I  should  try,  for, 
even  in  its  whiteness  and  radiance  alone,  it  exceeds  all  that  we 
can  imagine. 

It  is  not  a  radiance  which  dazzles,  but  a  soft  whiteness  and 
an  infused  radiance  which,  without  wearying  the  eyes,  causes 
them  the  greatest  delight;  nor  are  they  wearied  by  the  brightness 
which  they  see  in  seeing  this  Divine  beauty.  So  different  from 
any  earthly  light  is  the  brightness  and  light  now  revealed  to  the 
eyes  that,  by  comparison  with  it,  the  brightness  of  our  sun  seems 
quite  dim  and  we  should  never  want  to  open  our  eyes  again 
for  the  purpose  of  seeing  it.  It  is  as  if  we  were  to  look  at  a  very 
clear  stream,  in  a  bed  of  crystal,  reflecting  the  sun's  rays,  and 
then  to  see  a  very  muddy  stream,  in  an  earthy  bed  and  over- 
shadowed by  clouds.  Not  that  the  sun,  or  any  other  such  light, 
enters  into  the  vision:  on  the  contrary,  it  is  like  a  natural  light 
and  all  other  kinds  of  light  seem  artificial.  It  is  a  light  which 
never  gives  place  to  night,  and,  being  always  light,  is  disturbed 
by  nothing.  It  is  of  such  a  kind,  indeed,  that  no  one,  however 
powerful  his  intellect,  could,  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life, 
imagine  it  as  it  is.  And  so  quickly  does  God  reveal  it  to  us  that, 
even  if  we  needed  to  open  our  eyes  in  order  to  see  it,  there  would 
not  be  time  for  us  to  do  so.  But  it  is  all  the  same  whether  they 
are  open  or  closed :  if  the  Lord  is  pleased  for  us  to  see  it,  we  shall 
do  so  even  against  our  will.  There  is  nothing  powerful  enough 
to  divert  our  attention  from  it,  and  we  can  neither  resist  it  nor 
attain  to  it  by  any  diligence  or  care  of  our  own.  This  I  have 
conclusively  proved  by  experience,  as  I  shall  relate. 

I  should  like  now  to  say  something  of  the  way  in  which  the 
Lord  reveals  Himself  through  these  visions.  I  do  not  mean  that 


XXVIII]  LIFE  181 

I  shall  describe  how  it  is  that  He  can  introduce  this  strong 
light  into  the  inward  sense  and  give  the  understanding  an  image 
so  clear  that  it  seems  like  reality.  That  is  a  matter  for  learned 
men  to  explain.  The  Lord  has  not  been  pleased  to  grant  me  to 
understand  how  it  is;  and  I  am  so  ignorant,  and  my  under- 
standing is  so  dull  that,  although  many  attempts  have  been 
made  to  explain  it  to  me,  I  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  under- 
standing how  it  can  happen.  There  is  no  doubt  about  this: 
I  have  not  a  keen  understanding,  although  Your  Reverence 
may  think  I  have;  again  and  again  I  have  proved  that  my  mind 
has  to  be  spoon-fed,  as  they  say,  if  it  is  to  retain  anything.  Occa- 
sionally my  confessor  used  to  be  astounded  at  the  depths  of  my 
ignorance,  and  it  never  became  clear  to  me  how  God  did  this 
and  how  it  was  possible  that  He  should;  nor,  in  fact,  did  I  want 
to  know,  so  I  never  asked  anyone  about  it,  though,  as  I  have 
said,  I  have  for  many  years  been  in  touch  with  men  of  sound 
learning.  What  I  did  ask  them  was  whether  certain  things  were 
sinful  or  no:  as  for  the  rest,  all  I  needed  was  to  remember  that 
God  did  everything  and  then  I  realized  that  I  had  no  reason 
to  be  afraid  and  every  reason  to  praise  Him.  Difficulties  like 
that  only  arouse  devotion  in  me,  and,  the  greater  they  are,  the 
greater  is  the  devotion. 

I  will  describe,  then,  what  I  have  discovered  by  experience. 
How  the  Lord  effects  it,  Your  Reverence  will  explain  better 
than  I  and  will  expound  everything  obscure  of  which  I  do  not 
know  the  explanation.  At  certain  times  it  really  seemed  to  me 
that  it  was  an  image  I  was  seeing;  but  on  many  other  occasions 
I  thought  it  was  no  image,  but  Christ  Himself,  such  was  the 
brightness  with  which  He  was  pleased  to  reveal  Himself  to  me. 
Sometimes,  because  of  its  indistinctness,  I  would  think  the  vision 
was  an  image,  though  it  was  like  no  earthly  painting,  however 
perfect,  and  I  have  seen  a  great  many  good  ones*  It  is  ridiculous 
to  think  that  the  one  thing  is  any  more  like  the  other  than  a 
lining  person  is  like  his  portrait:  however  well  the  portrait  is 
done,  it  can  never  look  completely  natural:  one  sees,  in  fact, 
that  it  is  a  dead  thing.  But  let  us  pass  over  that,  apposite  and 
literally  true  though  it  is. 

I  am  not  saying  this  as  a  comparison,  for  comparisons  are 
never  quite  satisfactory:  it  is  the  actual  truth.  The  difference 
is  similar  to  that  between  something  living  and  something  painted, 
neither  more  so  nor  less.  For  if  what  I  see  is  an  image  it  is  a 
living  image — not  a  dead  man  but  the  living  Christ.  And  He 
shows  me  that  He  is  both  Man  and  God — not  as  He  was  in 
the  sepulchre,  but  as  He  was  when  He  left  it  after  rising  from 
the  dead.  Sometimes  He  comes  with  such  majesty  that  no  one 


LIFE  [CHAP. 

can  doubt  it  is  the  Lord  Himself;  this  is  especially  so  after 
Communion,  for  we  know  that  He  is  there,  since  the  Faith 
tells  us  so.  He  reveals  Himself  so  completely  as  the  Lord  of 
that  inn,  the  soul,  that  it  feels  as  though  it  were  wholly  dissolved 
and  consumed  in  Christ.  O  my  Jesus,  if  one  could  but  describe 
the  majesty  with  which  Thou  dost  reveal  Thyself!  How  com- 
pletely art  Thou  Lord  of  the  whole  world,  and  of  the  heavens, 
and  of  a  thousand  other  worlds,  and  of  countless  worlds  and 
heavens  that  Thou  hast  created!  And  the  majesty  with  which 
Thou  dost  reveal  Thyself  shows  the  soul  that  to  be  Lord  of  this 
is  nothing  for  Thee. 

Here  it  becomes  evident,  my  Jesus,  how  trifling  is  the  power 
of  all  the  devils  in  comparison  with  Thine,  and  how  he  who 
is  pleasing  to  Thee  can  trample  upon  all  the  hosts  of  hell.  Here 
we  see  with  what  reason  the  devils  trembled  when  Thou  didst 
descend  into  Hades :  well  might  they  have  longed  for  a  thousand 
deeper  hells  in  order  to  flee  from  such  great  Majesty!  I  see 
that  Thou  art  pleased  to  reveal  to  the  soul  the  greatness  of  Thy 
Majesty,  together  with  the  power  of  this  most  sacred  Humanity 
in  union  with  the  Divinity.  Here  is  a  clear  picture  of  what  the 
Day  of  Judgment  will  be,  when  we  shall  behold  the  Majesty  of 
this  King  and  see  the  rigour  of  His  judgment  upon  the  wicked. 
Here  we  find  true  humility,  giving  the  soul  power  to  behold 
its  own  wretchedness,  of  which  it  cannot  be  ignorant.  Here  is 
shame  and  genuine  repentance  for  sin;  for,  though  it  sees  God 
revealing  His  love  to  it,  the  soul  can  find  no  place  to  hide  itself 
and  thus  is  utterly  confounded.  I  mean  that,  when  th§  Lord 
is  pleased  to  reveal  to  the  soul  so  much  of  His  greatness  and 
majesty,  the  vision  has  such  exceeding  great  power  that  I  believe 
it  would  be  impossible  to  endure,  unless  the  Lord  were  pleased 
to  help  the  soul  in  a  most  supernatural  way  by  sending  it  into 
a  rapture  or  an  ecstasy,  during  the  fruition  of  which  the  vision 
of  that  Divine  Presence  is  lost.  Though  it  is  true  that  afterwards 
the  vision  is  forgotten,  the  majesty  and  beauty  of  God  are  so 
deeply  imprinted  upon  the  soul  that  it  is  impossible  to  forget 
these — save  when  the  Lord  is  pleased  for  the  soul  to  suffer  the 
great  loneliness  and  aridity  that  I  shall  describe  later;  for  then 
it  seems  even  to  forget  God  Himself.  The  soul  is  now  a  new 
creature:  it  is  continuously  absorbed  in  God;  it  seems  to  me 
that  a  new  and  living  love  of  God  is  beginning  to  work  within* 
it  to  a  very  high  degree;  for,  though  the  former  type  of  vision 
which,  as  I  said,  reveals  God  without  presenting  any  image  of 
Him,  is  of  a  higher  kind,  yet,  if  the  memory  of  it  is  to  last,  despite 
our  weakness,  and  if  the  thoughts  are  to  be  well  occupied,  it 
is  a  great  thing  that  so  Divine  a  Presence  should  be  presented 


XXVIII]  LIFE  183 

to  the  imagination  and  should  remain  within  it.  These  two 
kinds  of  vision  almost  invariably  occur  simultaneously,  and,  as 
they  come  in  this  way,  the  eyes  of  the  soul  see  the  excellence 
and  the  beauty  and  the  glory  of  the  most  holy  Humanity.  And 
in  the  other  way  which  has  been  described  it  is  revealed  to  us 
how  He  is  God,  and  that  He  is  powerful,  and  can  do  all  things, 
and  commands  all  things,  and  rules  all  things,  and  fills  all 
things  with  His  love. 

This  vision  is  to  be  very  highly  esteemed,  and,  in  my  view, 
there  is  no  peril  in  it,  as  its  effects  show  that  the  devil  has  no 
power  over  it.  Three  or  four  times,  I  think,  he  has  attempted 
to  present  the  Lord  Himself  to  me  in  this  way,  by  making  a 
false  likeness  of  Him.  He  takes  the  form  of  flesh,  but  he  cannot 
counterfeit  the  glory  which  the  vision  has  when  it  comes  from 
God.  He  makes  these  attempts  in  order  to  destroy  the  effects 
of  the  genuine  vision  that  the  soul  has  experienced;  but  the  soul, 
of  its  own  accord,  resists  them:  it  then  becomes  troubled,  des- 
pondent and  restless;  loses  the  devotion  and  joy  which  it  had 
before ;  and  is  unable  to  pray.  At  the  beginning  of  my  experiences, 
as  I  have  said,  this  happened  to  me  three  or  four  times.  It  is  so 
very  different  from  a  true  vision  that  I  think,  even  if  a  soul 
has  experienced  only  the  Prayer  of  Quiet,  it  will  become  aware 
of  the  difference  from  the  effects  which  have  been  described  in 
the  chapter  on  locutions.  The  thing  is  very  easy  to  recognize; 
and,  unless  a  soul  wants  to  be  deceived,  I  do  not  think  the 
devil  will  deceive  it  if  it  walks  in  humility  and  simplicity.  Any- 
one, of  course,  who  has  had  a  genuine  vision  from  God  will 
recognize  the  devil's  work  almost  at  once;  he  will  begin  by 
giving  the  soul  consolations  and  favours,  but  it  will  thrust  them 
from  it.  And  further,  I  think,  the  deviTs  consolations  must  be 
different  from  those  of  God :  there  is  no  suggestion  in  them  of 
pure  and  chaste  love  and  it  very  soon  becomes  easy  to  see  whence 
they  come.  So,  in  my  view,  where  a  soul  has  had  experience, 
the  devil  will  be  unable  to  do  it  any  harm. 

Of  all  impossibilities,  the  most  impossible  is  that  these  true 
visions  should  be  the  work  of  the  imagination.  There  is  no  way 
in  which  this  could  be  so :  by  the  mere  beauty  and  whiteness  of 
a  single  one  of  the  hands  which  we  are  shown  the  imagination  is 
completely  transcended.  In  any  case,  there  is  no  other  way  in 
which  it  would  be  possible  for  us  to  see  in  a  moment  things  of 
which  we  have  no  recollection,  which  we  have  never  thought 
of,  and  which,  even  in  a  long  period  of  time,  we  could  not  invent 
with  our  imagination,  because,  as  I  have  already  said.,  they  far 
transcend  what  we  can  comprehend  on  earth.  Whether  we  could 
possibly  be  in  any  way  responsible  for  this  will  be  clear  from 


1 84  LIFE  [CHAP. 

what  I  shall  now  say.  If,  in  a  vision,  the  representation  proceeded 
from  our  own  understanding,  quite  apart  from  the  fact  that  it 
would  not  bring  about  the  striking  effects  which  are  produced 
when  a  vision  is  of  God ,  or,  indeed,  any  effects  at  all,  the  position 
would  be  like  that  of  a  man  who  wants  to  put  himself  to  sleep 
but  stays  awake  because  sleep  has  not  come  to  him.  He  needs 
it — perhaps  his  brain  is  tired — and  so  is  anxious  for  it;  and  he 
settles  down  to  doze,  and  does  all  he  can  to  go  off  to  sleep, 
and  sometimes  thinks  he  is  succeeding,  but  if  it  is  not  real  sleep 
it  will  not  restore  him  or  refresh  his  brain — indeed,  the  brain 
sometimes  grows  wearier.  Something  like  that  will  be  the  case 
here:  instead  of  being  restored  and  becoming  strong,  the  soul 
will  grow  wearier  and  become  tired  and  peevish.  It  is  impossible 
for  human  tongue  to  exaggerate  the  riches  which  a  vision  from 
God  brings  to  the  soul:  it  even  bestows  health  and  refreshment 
on  the  body. 

I  used  to  put  forward  this  argument,  together  with  others, 
when  they  told  me,  as  they  often  did,  that  I  was  being  deceived 
by  the  devil  and  that  it  was  all  the  work  of  my  imagination. 
I  also  drew  such  comparisons  as  I  could  and  as  the  Lord  revealed 
to  my  understanding.  But  it  was  all  to  little  purpose,  because 
there  were  some  very  holy  persons  in  the  place,  by  comparison 
with  whom  I  was  a  lost  creature;  and,  as  God  was  not  leading 
these  persons  by  that  way,  they  were  afraid  and  thought  that 
what  I  saw  was  the  result  of  my  sins.  They  repeated  to  one 
another  what  I  said,  so  that  before  long  they  all  got  to  know 
about  it,  though  I  had  spoken  of  it  only  to  my  confessor  and 
to  those  with  whom  he  had  commanded  me  to  discuss  it. 

I  once  said  to  the  people  who  were  talking  to  me  in  this  way 
that  if  they  were  to  tell  me  that  a  person  whom  I  knew  well 
and  had  just  been  speaking  to  was  not  herself  at  all,  but  that  I 
was  imagining  her  to  be  so,  and  that  they  knew  this  was  the  case, 
I  should  certainly  believe  them  rather  than  my  own  eyes.  But, 
I  added,  if  that  person  left  some  jewels  with  me,  which  I  was 
actually  holding  in  my  hands  as  pledges  of  her  great  love,  and 
if,  never  having  had  any  before,  I  were  thus  to  find  myself  rich 
instead  of  poor,  I  could  not  possibly  believe  that  this  was 
delusion,  even  if  I  wanted  to.  And,  I  said,  I  could  show  them 
these  jewels — for  all  who  knew  me  were  well  aware  how  my 
soul  had  changed:  my  confessor  himself  testified  to  this,  for  the 
difference  was  very  great  in  every  respect,  and  no  fancy,  but 
such  as  all  could  clearly  see.  As  I  had  previously  been  so  wicked, 
I  concluded,  I  could  not  believe  that,  if  the  devil  were  doing 
this  to  delude  me  and  drag  me  down  to  hell,  he  would  make 
use  of  means  which  so  completely  defeated  their  own  ends  by 


XXVIII]  LIFE  185 

taking  away  my  vices  and  making  me  virtuous  and  strong;  for 
it  was  quite  clear  to  me  that  these  experiences  had  immediately 
made  me  a  different  person. 

My  confessor,  who,  as  I  have  said,  was  a  very  holy  Father  of 
the  Company  of  Jesus,1  gave  them — so  I  learned — the  same 
reply.  He  was  very  discreet  and  a  man  of  deep  humility,  and 
this  deep  humility  brought  great  trials  upon  me;  for,  being  a 
man  of  great  prayer  and  learning,  he  did  not  trust  his  own 
opinion,  and  the  Lord  was  not  leading  him  by  this  path.  Very 
great  trials  befell  him  on  my  account,  and  this  in  many  ways. 
I  knew  they  used  to  tell  him  that  he  must  be  on  his  guard  against 
me,  lest  the  devil  should  deceive  him  into  believing  anything 
I  might  say  to  him,  and  they  gave  him  similar  examples  of  what 
had  happened  with  other  people.  All  this  worried  me.  I  was 
afraid  that  there  would  be  no  one  left  to  hear  my  confession, 
and  that  everyone  would  flee  from  me:  I  did  nothing  but  weep. 

By  the  providence  of  God  this  Father  consented  to  persevere 
with  me  and  hear  me:  so  great  a  servant  of  God  was  he  that 
for  His  sake  he  would  have  exposed  himself  to  anything.  So 
he  told  me  that  I  must  not  offend  God  or  depart  from  what  he 
said  to  me,  and  if  I  were  careful  about  that  I  need  not  be  afraid 
that  He  would  fail  me.  He  always  encouraged  me  and  soothed 
me.  And  he  always  told  me  not  to  hide  anything  from  him, 
in  which  I  obeyed  him.  He  would  say  that,  if  I  did  this,  the 
devil — assuming  it  to  be  the  devil — would  not  hurt  me,  and 
that  in  fact,  out  of  the  harm  which  he  was  trying  to  do  my  soul, 
the  Lord  would  bring  good.  He  did  his  utmost  to  lead  my  soul 
to  perfection.  As  I  was  so  fearful,  I  obeyed  him  in  every  way, 
though  imperfectly.  For  the  three  years  and  more  during  which 
he  was  my  confessor2,  I  gave  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble  with 
these  trials  of  mine,  for  during  the  grievous  persecutions  which 
I  suffered  and  on  the  many  occasions  when  the  "Lord  allowed^ 
me  to  be  harshly  judged,  often  undeservedly,  all  kinds  of  tales* 
about  me  were  brought  to  him  and  he  would  be  blamed  on 
my  account  when  he  was  in  no  way  blameworthy. 

Had  he  not  been  a  man  of  such  sanctity,  and  had  not  the 
Lord  given  him  courage,  he  could  not  possibly  have  endured  so 
much,  for  he  had  to  deal  with  people  who  did  not  believe  him 

1  P.  Baltasar  Alvarez.  As  this  Father  was  only  twenty-five  years  of  age  when  he 
became  St.  Teresa's  director,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  was  disinclined  to  trust  his 
own  opinion,  the  more  so  as  his  Rector,  f\  Dionisio  Vazquez,  was  a  man  of  a  rigid 
and  inflexible  temperament.  P.  Luis  de  la  Puente  [who  was  under  him  at  Medina 
and  wrote  his  biography:  cf.  S.S.M.,  II,  310-13]  tells  us  that  he  himself  was  very 
conscious  of  his  deficiencies  in  this  respect.  Cf.  La  Puente :  Vlda  del  Padre  Baltasar  Alvarez, 
etc.,  Madrid,  1615,  Chap.  XIIL 

*  The  period  was  actually  of  six  years,  but  the  author  naturally  dwells  most  upon 
the  first  three,  which  were  the  most  difficult  for  her* 


1 86  LIFE  [CHAP. 

but  thought  I  was  going  to  destruction  and  at  the  same  time 
he  had  to  soothe  me  and  deliver  me  from  the  fears  which  were 
oppressing  me,  though  these  he  sometimes  only  intensified.  He 
had  also  to  reassure  me;  for,  whenever  I  had  a  vision  involving 
a  new  experience,  God  allowed  me  to  be  left  in  great  fear.  This 
all  came  from  my  having  been,  and  my  still  being,  such  a  sinner. 
He  would  comfort  me  most  compassionately,  and,  if  he  had 
had  more  trust  in  himself,  I  should  have  had  less  to  suffer,  for 
God  showed  him  the  truth  about  everything  and  I  believe  the 
Sacrament  itself  gave  him  light. 

Those  of  God's  servants  who  were  not  convinced  that  all  was 
well  would  often  come  and  talk  to  me.  Some  of  the  things  I 
said  to  them  I  expressed  carelessly  and  they  took  them  in.  the 
wrong  sense.  To  one  of  them  I  was  very  much  attached :  he 
was  a  most  holy  man  and  my  soul  was  infinitely  in  his  debt 
and  I  was  infinitely  distressed  at  his  misunderstanding  me  when 
he  was  so  earnestly  desirous  that  I  should  advance  in  holiness 
and  that  the  Lord  should  give  me  light.  Well,  as  I  have  said, 
I  spoke  without  thinking  what  I  was  saying  and  my  words  seemed 
to  these  people  lacking  in  humility.  When  they  saw  any  faults 
in  me,  and  they  must  have  seen  a  great  many,  they  condemned 
me  outright.  They  would  ask  me  certain  questions,  which  I 
answered  plainly,  though  carelessly;  and  they  then  thought  I 
was  trying  to  instruct  them  and  considered  myself  a  person  of 
learning.  All  this  reached  the  ears  of  my  confessor  (for  they 
were  certainly  anxious  to  improve  me),  whereupon  he  began 
to  find  fault  with  me. 

This  state  of  things  went  on  for  a  long  time  and  I  was  troubled 
on  many  sides;  but,  thanks  to  the  favours  which  the  Lord 
granted  me,  I  endured  everything.  I  say  this  so  that  it  may 
be  realized  what  a  great  trial  it  is  to  have  no  one  with  experience 
^of  this  spiritual  road;  if  the  Lord  had  not  helped  me  so  much, 
*I  do  not  know  what  would  have  become  of  me.  I  had  troubles 
enough  to  deprive  me  of  my  reason,  and  I  sometimes  found 
myself  in  such  a  position  that  I  could  do  nothing  but  lift  up 
my  eyes  to  the  Lord.  For  though  the  opposition  of  good  people 
to  a  weak  and  wicked  woman  like  myself,  and  a  timid  one  at 
that,  seems  nothing  when  described  in  this  way,  it  was  one  of 
the  worst  trials  that  I  have  ever  known  in  my  life,  and  I  have 
"suffered  some  very  severe  ones.  May  the  Lord  grant  me  to 
have  done  His  Majesty  a  little  service  here;  for  I  am  quite  sure 
that  those  who  condemned  and  arraigned  me  were  doing  Him 
service  and  that  it  was  all  for  my  great  good. 


XXIX]  LIFE  187 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

Continues  the  subject  already  begun  and  describes  certain  great  favours 
which  the  Lord  showed  her  and  the  things  which  His  Majesty  said 
to  her  to  reassure  her  and  give  her  answers  for  those  who  opposed 
her. 

I  have  strayed  far  from  my  intention,  for  I  was  trying  to 
give  the  reasons  why  this  kind  of  vision  cannot  be  the  work  of 
the  imagination.  How  could  we  picture  Christ's  Humanity  by 
merely  studying  the  subject  or  form  any  impression  of  His  great 
beauty  by  means  of  the  imagination?  No  little  time  would  be 
necessary  if  such  a  reproduction  was  to  be  in  the  least  like  the 
original.  One  can  indeed  make  such  a  picture  with  one's  imagina- 
tion, and  spend  time  in  regarding  it,  and  considering  the  form 
and  the  brilliance  of  it;  little  by  little  one  may  even  learn  to 
perfect  such  an  image  and  store  it  up  in  the  memory.  Who 
can  prevent  this?  Such  a  picture  can  undoubtedly  be  fashioned 
with  the  understanding.  But  with  regard  to  the  vision  which 
we  are  discussing  there  is  no  way  of  doing  this :  we  have  to 
look  at  it  when  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  reveal  it  to  us — to  look  as 
He  wills  and  at  whatever  He  wills.  And  there  is  no  possibility 
of  our  subtracting  from  it  or  adding  to  it,  or  any  way  in  which 
we  can  obtain  it,  whatever  we  may  do,  or  look  at  it  when  we 
like  or  refrain  from  looking  at  it.  If  we  try  to  look  at  any  par- 
ticulai'  part  of  it,  we  at  once  lose  Christ. 

For  two  years  and  a  half  things  went  on  like  this  and  it  was 
quite  usual  for  God  to  grant  me  this  favour.  It  must  now  be 
more  than  three  years  since  He  took  it  from  me  as  a  continually 
recurring  favour,1  by  giving  me  something  else  of  a  higher  kind, 
which  I  shall  describe  later.  Though  I  saw  that  He  was  speaking 
to  me,  and  though  I  was  looking  upon  that  great  beauty  of  His, 
and  experiencing  the  sweetness  with  which  He  uttered  those 
words — sometimes  stern  words — with  that  most  lovely  and 
Divine  mouth,  and  though,  too,  I  was  extremely  desirous  of 
observing  the  colour  of  His  eyes,  or  His  height,  so  that  I  should 
be  able  to  describe  it,  I  have  never  been  sufficiently  worthy 
to  see  this,  nor  has  it  been  of  any  use  for  me  to  attempt  to  do 
so;  if  I  tried,  I  lost  the  vision  altogether.  Though  I  sometimes 

1  [If  the  first  imaginary  visionjoccurred  on  January  25,  1560  (cf.  pp.  168, 179,  above, 
but  also  p.  189,  below),  this  would  mean  that  St.  Teresa  was  writing  this  chapter 
in  the  summer  of  1565,  which  (c£  pp.  4-5,  above^  is  about  correct.  To  date  the 
first  vision  in  January  1558  would  bring  the  writing  of  the  chapter  to  1563,  which  is 
almost  certainly  too  early.] 


1 88  LIFE  [CHAP. 

see  Him  looking  at  me  compassionately,  His  gaze  has  such  power 
that  my  soul  cannot  endure  it  and  remains  in  so  sublime  a  rap- 
ture that  it  loses  this  beauteous  vision  in  order  to  have  the  greater 
fruition  of  it  all.  So  there  is  no  question  here  of  our  wanting  or 
not  wanting  to  see  the  vision.  It  is  clear  that  the  Lord  wants 
of  us  only  humility  and  shame,  our  acceptance  of  what  is  given 
us  and  our  praise  of  its  Giver, 

This  refers  to  all  visions,  none  excepted.  There  is  nothing 
that  we  can  do  about  them;  we  cannot  see  more  or  less  of  them 
at  will;  and  we  can  neither  call  them  up  nor  banish  them  by 
our  own  efforts.  The  Lord's  will  is  that  we  shall  see  quite  clearly 
that  they  are  produced,  not  by  us  but  by  His  Majesty.  Still  less 
can  we  be  proud  of  them :  on  the  contrary,  they  make  us  humble 
and  fearful,  when  we  find  that,  just  as  the  Lord  takes  from  us 
the  power  of  seeing  what  we  desire,  so  He  'can  also  take  from 
us  these  favours  and  His  grace,  with  the  result  that  we  are  com- 
pletely lost.  So  while  we  live  in  this  exile  let  us  always  walk 
with  fear. 

Almost  invariably  the  Lord  showed  Himself  to  me  in  His 
resurrection  body,  and  it  was  thus,  too,  that  I  saw  Him  in  the 
Host.  Only  occasionally,  to  strengthen  me  when  I  was  in  tribula- 
tion, did  He  show  me  His  wounds,  and  then  He  would  appear 
sometimes  as  He  was  on  the  Cross  and  sometimes  as  in  the  Garden. 
On  a  few  occasions  I  saw  Him  wearing  the  crown  of  thorns  and 
sometimes  He  would  also  be  carrying  the  Cross — because  of  my 
necessities,  as  I  say,  and  those  of  others — but  always  in  His 
glorified  flesh.  Many  are  the  affronts  and  trials  that  I  have 
suffered  through  telling  this  and  many  are  the  fears  and  per- 
secutions that  it  has  brought  me.  So  sure  were  those  whom  I  told 
of  it  that  I  had  a  devil  that  some  of  them  wanted  to  exorcize  me. 
This  troubled  me  very  little,  but  I  was  sorry  when  I  found  that 
my  confessors  were  afraid  to  hear  iny  confessions  or  when  I  heard 
that  people  were  saying  things  to  them  against  me.  None  the  less, 
I  could  never  regret  having  seen  these  heavenly  visions  and  I 
would  not  exchange  them  for  all  the  good  things  and  delights 
of  this  world.  I  always  considered  them  a  great  favour  from  the 
Lord,  and  I  think  they  were  the  greatest  of  treasures ;  often  the 
Lord  ffimself  would  reassure  me  about  them.  I  found  my  love 
for  Him  growing  exceedingly:  I  used  to  go  to  Him  and  tell  Him 
about  all  these  trials  and  I  always  came  away  from  prayer  com- 
forted and  with  new  strength.  I  did  not  dare  to  argue  with 
my  critics,  because  I  saw  that  that  made  things  worse,  as  they 
thought  me  lacking  in  humility.  With  my  confessor,  however, 
I  did  discuss  these  matters;  and  whenever  he  saw  that  I  was 
troubled  he  would  comfort  me  greatly. 


XXIX]  LIFE  189 

As  the  visions  became  more  numerous,  one  of  those  who  had 
previously  been  in  the  habit  of  helping  me  and  who  used  some- 
times to  hear  my  confessions  when  the  minister  was  unable 
to  do  so,  began  to  say  that  it  was  clear  I  was  being  deceived 
by  the  devil.  So,  as  I  was  quite  unable  to  resist  it,  they  commanded 
me  to  make  the  sign  of  the  Gross  whenever  I  had  a  vision,  and  to 
snap  my  fingers  at  it1  so  as  to  convince  myself  that  it  came  from 
the  devil,  whereupon  it  would  not  come  again:  I  was  not  to  be 
afraid,  they  said,  and  God  would  protect  me  and  take  the  vision 
away.  This  caused  me  great  distress:  as  I  could  not  help  believing 
that  my  visions  came  from  God,  it  was  a  terrible  thing  to  have 
to  do;  and,  as  I  have  said,  I  could  not  possibly  wish  them  to  be 
taken  from  me.  However,  I  did  as  they  commanded  me.  I 
besought  God  often  to  set  me  free  from  deception;  indeed,  I  was 
continually  doing  so  and  with  many  tears,  I  would  also  invoke 
Saint  Peter  and  Saint  Paul,  for  the  Lord  had  told  me  (it  was  on 
their  festival  that  He  had  first  appeared  to  me) 2  that  they  would 
prevent  me  from  being  deluded;  and  I  used  often  to  see  them 
very  clearly  on  my  left  hand,  though  not  in  an  imaginary  vision. 
These  glorious  Saints  were  in  a  very  real  sense  my  lords* 

To  be  obliged  to  snap  my  fingers  at  a  vision  in  which  I  saw 
the  Lord  caused  me  the  sorest  distress.  For,  when  I  saw  Him 
before  me,  I  could  not  have  believed  that  the  vision  had  come 
from  the  devil  even  if  the  alternative  were  my  being  cut  to  pieces. 
So  this  was  a  kind  of  penance  to  me,  and  a  heavy  one.  In  order 
not  to  have  to  be  so  continually  crossing  myself,  I  would  carry 
a  cross  in  my  hand.  This  I  did  almost  invariably;  but  I  was  not 
so  particular  about  snapping  my  fingers  at  the  vision,  for  it  hurt 
me  too  much  to  do  that.  It  reminded  me  of  the  way  the  Jews 
had  insulted  Him,  and  I  would  beseech  Him  to  forgive  me, 
since  I  did  it  out  of  obedience  to  him  who  was  in  His  own  place, 
and  not  to  blame  me,  since  he  was  one  of  the  ministers  whom 
He  had  placed  in  His  Church.  He  told  me  not  to  worry  about  it 
and  said  I  was  quite  right  to  obey,  but  He  would  see  that  my 
confessor  learned  the  truth.  When  they  made  me  stop  my  prayer 
He  seemed  to  me  to  have  become  angry,  and  He  told  me  to  tell 
them  that  this  was  tyranny.  He  used  to  show  me  ways  of  knowing 
that  the  visions  were  not  of  the  devil;  some  of  these  I  shall  describe 
later. 

Once,  when  I  was  holding  in  my  hand  the  cross  of  a  rosary, 
He  put  out  His  own  hand  and  took  it  from  me,  and,  when  He 

1  Dar  Mgas — i.e.,  make  the  sign  of  contempt  described  on  p.  165,  n.  3,  above. 

2  [This  phrase  would  seem  to  indicate  that  the  first  vision  -was  on  June  29  (or  possibly 
on  June  30 .  the  Commemoration  of  St.  Paul)  and  not  on  January  25  (see  p.  1 87,  above). 
If  this  deduction  and  my  dating  of  the  year  as  1560  are  both  correct,  this  part  of  the 
book  was  not  written  until  the  very  end  of  1565.  Cf.  p.  4,  above.] 


i  go  LIFE  [CHAP. 

gave  it  back  to  me,  it  had  become  four  large  stones,  much  more 
precious  than  diamonds — incomparably  more  so,  for  it  is  impos- 
sible, of  course,  to  make  comparisons  with  what  is  supernatural, 
and  diamonds  seem  imperfect  counterfeits  beside  the  precious 
stones  which  I  saw  in  that  vision.  On  the  cross,  with  exquisite 
workmanship,  were  portrayed  the  five  wounds.1  He  told  me  that 
henceforward  it  would  always  look  to  me  like  that,  and  so  it 
did:  I  could  never  see  the  wood  of  which  it  was  made,  but  only 
these  stones.  To  nobody,  however,  did  it  look  like  this  except 
to  myself.  As  soon  as  they  had  begun  to  order  me  to  test  my 
visions  in  this  way,  and  to  resist  them,  the  favours  became  more 
and  more  numerous.  In  my  efforts  to  divert  my  attention  from 
them,  I  never  ceased  from  prayer;  even  when  asleep  I  used  to 
seem  to  be  praying,  for  this  made  me  grow  in  love.  I  would 
address  my  complaints  to  the  Lord,  telling  Him  I  could  not  bear 
it.  Desire  and  strive  to  cease  thinking  of  Him  as  I  would,  it  was 
not  in  my  power  to  do  so.  In  every  respect  I  was  as  obedient 
as  I  could  be,  but  about  this  I  could  do  little  or  nothing,  and  the 
Lord  never  gave  me  leave  to  disobey.  But,  though  He  told  me 
to  do  as  I  was  bidden,  He  reassured  me  in  another  way,  by 
teaching  me  what  I  was  to  say  to  my  critics;  and  this  He  does 
still.  The  arguments  with  which  He  provided  me  were  so  con- 
clusive that  they  made  me  feel  perfectly  secure. 

Shortly  after  this,  Has  Majesty  began  to  give  me  clearer  signs 
of  His  presence,  as  He  had  promised  me  to  do.  There  grew 
within  me  so  strong  a  love  of  God  that  I  did  not  know  who  was 
inspiring  me  with  it,  for  it  was  entirely  supernatural  and  I  had 
made  no  efforts  to  obtain  it.  I  found  myself  dying  with  the 
desire  to  see  God  and  I  knew  no  way  of  seeking  that  life  save 
through  death.  This  love  came  to  me  in  vehement  impulses, 
which,  though  less  unbearable,  and  of  less  worth,  than  those  of 
which  I  have  spoken  previously,  took  from  me  all  power  of  action. 
For  nothing  afforded  me  satisfaction  and  I  was  incapable  of 
containing  myself:  it  really  seemed  as  though  my  soul  were  being 
torn  from  me.  O  sovereign  artifice  of  the  Lord,  with  what  subtle 
diligence  dost  Thou  work  upon  Thy  miserable  slave !  Thou  didst 
hide  Thyself  from  me,  and  out  of  Thy  love  didst  oppress  me  with  a 
death  so  delectable  that  my  soul's  desire  was  never  to  escape 
from  it. 

No  one  who  has  not  experienced  these  vehement  impulses  can 
possibly  understand  this:  it  is  no  question  of  physical  restlessness 

1  This  cross  was  later  given  by  St.  Teresa's  sister  Juana  to  Dona  Maria  Enriquez  de 
Toledo,  Duchess  of  Alba.  After  the  Duchess's  death  the  Gannelites  claimed  possession 
of  it  and  until  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  it  -was  preserved  in  their  Valladolid 
convent.  It  was  lost  during  the  religious  persecutions  of  1835. 


XXIX]  LIFE  191 

within  the  breast,  or  of  uncontrollable  devotional  feelings  which 
occur  frequently  and  seem  to  stifle  the  spirit.  That  is  prayer 
of  a  much  lower  kind,  and  we  should  check  such  quickenings 
of  emotion  by  endeavouring  gently  to  turn  them  into  inward 
recollection  and  to  keep  the  soul  hushed  and  still.  Such  prayer 
is  like  the  violent  sobbing  of  children:  they  seem  as  if  they  are 
going  to  choke,  but  if  they  are  given  something  to  drink  their 
superabundant  emotion  is  checked  immediately.  So  it  is  here: 
reason  must  step  in  and  take  the  reins,  for  it  may  be  that  this 
is  partly  accountable  for  by  the  temperament.  On  reflection 
comes  a  fear  that  there  is  some  imperfection,  which  may  in  great 
part  be  due  to  the  senses.  So  this  child  must  be  hushed  with 
a  loving  caress  which  will  move  it  to  a  gentle  kind  of  love; 
it  must  not,  as  they  say,  be  driven  at  the  point  of  the  fist.  Its 
love  must  find  an  outlet  in  interior  recollection  and  not  be 
allowed  to  boil  right  over  like  a  pot  to  which  fuel  has  been 
applied  indiscriminately.  The  fire  must  be  controlled  at  its 
source  and  an  endeavour  must  be  made  to  quench  the  flame  with 
gentle  tears,  not  with  tears  caused  by  affliction,  for  these  proceed 
from  the  emotions  already  referred  to  and  do  a  great  deal  of 
harm.  I  used  at  first  to  shed  tears  of  this  kind,  which  left  my 
brain  so  distracted  and  my  spirit  so  wearied  that  for  a  day  or 
more  I  was  not  fit  to  return  to  prayer.  Great  discretion,  then, 
is  necessary  at  first  so  that  everything  may  proceed  gently  and  the 
operations  of  the  spirit  may  express  themselves  interiorly;  great 
care  should  be  taken  to  prevent  operations  of  an  exterior  kind. 

These  other  impulses  are  very  different.  It  is  not  we  who  put 
on  the  fuel;  it  seems  rather  as  if  the  fire  is  already  kindled  and 
it  is  we  who  are  suddenly  thrown  into  it  to  be  burned  up.  The  soul 
does  not  try  to  feel  the  pain  of  the  wound  caused  by  the  Lord's 
absence.  Rather  an  arrow  is  driven  into  the  very  depths  of  the 
entrails,  and  sometimes  into  the  heart,  so  that  the  soul  does  not 
know  either  what  is  the  matter  with  it  or  what  it  desires.  It 
knows  quite  well  that  it  desires  God  and  that  the  arrow  seems  to 
have  been  dipped  in  some  drug  which  leads  it  to  hate  itself  for 
the  love  of  this  Lord  so  that  it  would  gladly  lose  its  life  for  Him. 
No  words  will  suffice  to  describe  the  way  in  which  God  wounds 
the  soul  and  the  sore  distress  which  He  causes  it,  so  that  it  hardly 
knows  what  it  is  doing.  Yet  so  delectable  is  this  distress  that  life 
holds  no  delight  which  can  give  greater  satisfaction.  As  I  have 
said,  the  soul  would  gladly  be  dying  of  this  ill. 

This  distress  and  this  bliss  between  them  bewildered  me  so 
mjich  that  I  was  never  able  to  understand  how  such  a  thing  could 
bel  Oh,  what  it  is  to  see  a  wounded  soul — I  mean  when  it  under- 
stands its  condition  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  describe  itself  as 


1 92  LIFE  [CHAP. 

wounded  for  so  excellent  a  cause!  It  sees  clearly  that  this  love 
has  come  to  it  through  no  act  of  its  own,  but  that,  from  the 
exceeding  great  love  which  the  Lord  bears  it,  a  spark  seems 
suddenly  to  have  fallen  upon  it  and  to  have  set  it  wholly  on  fire. 
Oh,  how  often,  when  in  this  state,  do  I  remember  that  verse  of 
David:  Quemadmodum  desiderat  cewus  ad  fontes  aquarum^  which  I 
seem  to  see  fulfilled  literally  in  myself! 

When  these  impulses  are  not  very  strong  they  appear  to  calm 
down  a  little,  or,  at  any  rate,  the  soul  seeks  some  relief  from  them 
because  it  knows  not  what  to  do.  It  performs  certain  penances, 
but  is  quite  unable  to  feel  them,  while  the  shedding  of  its  blood 
causes  it  no  more  distress  than  if  its  body  were  dead.  It  seeks 
ways  and  means  whereby  it  may  express  something  of  what  it  feels 
for  the  love  of  God;  but  its  initial  pain  is  so  great  that  I  know  of  no 
physical  torture  which  can  drown  it.  There  is  no  relief  to  be  found 
in  these  medicines:  they  are  quite  inadequate  for  so  sublime  an 
ill.2  A  certain  alleviation  of  the  pain  is  possible,  which  may 
cause  some  of  it  to  pass  away,  if  the  soul  begs  God  to  grant  it 
relief  from  its  ill,  though  it  sees  none  save  death,  by  means  of 
which  it  believes  it  can  have  complete  fruition  of  its  Good.  At 
other  times  the  impulses  are  so  strong  that  the  soul  is  unable  to  do 
either  this  or  anything  else.  The  entire  body  contracts  and  neither 
arm  nor  foot  can  be  moved.  If  the  subject  is  on  his  feet,  he  remains 
as  though  transported  and  cannot  even  breathe:  all  he  does  is  to 
moan — not  aloud,  for  that  is  impossible,  but  inwardly,  out  of 
pain. 

It  pleased  the  Lord  that  I  should  sometimes  see  the  following 
vision.  I  would  see  beside  me,  on  my  left  hand,  an  angel  in 
bodily  form — a  type  of  vision  which  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of 
seeing,  except  very  rarely.  Though  I  often  see  representations  of 
angels,  my  visions  of  them  are  of  the  type  which  I  first  mentioned. 
It  pleased  the  Lord  that  I  should  see  this  angel  in  the  following 
way.  He  was  not  tall,  but  short,  and  very  beautiful,  his  face  so 
aflame  that  he  appeared  to  be  one  of  the  highest  types  of  angel 
who  seem  to  be  all  afire.  They  must  be  those  who  are  called 
cherubim:8  they  do  not  tell  me  their  names  but  I  am  well  aware 
that  there  is  a  great  difference  between  certain  angels  and  others, 
and  between  these  and  others  still,  of  a  kind  that  I  could  not 
possibly  explain.  In  his  hands  I  saw  a  long  golden  spear  and  at 
the  end  of  the  iron  tip  I  seemed  to  see  a  point  of  fire.  With " 

1  Psalm  xli,  i  [A.V.,  xlii,  i] :  "As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  fountains  of  water, 
so  my  soul  panteth  after  thee,  O  God." 

*  [£&,  "too  low  for  so  high  an  ill."] 

9  St.  Teresa  wrote  '"Cherubims",  but  P.  Bdnez  added  the  marginal  note:  **it 
seems  more  like  those  which  are  called  Seraphims  ",  and  Fray  Luis  de  Le6n,  in  his 
edition,  adopted  this  form. 


XXIX]  LIFE  193 

this  he  seemed  to  pierce  my  heart  several  times  so  that  it  pene- 
trated to  my  entrails.  When  he  drew  it  out,  I  thought  he  was 
drawing  them  out  with  it  and  he  left  me  completely  afire  with  a 
great  love  for  God.  The  pain  was  so  sharp  that  it  made  me  utter 
several  moans;  and  so  excessive  was  the  sweetness  caused  me  by 
this  intense  pain  that  one  can  never  wish  to  lose  it,  nor  will  one's 
soul  be  content  with  anything  less  than  God.  It  is  not  bodily 
pain,  but  spiritual,  though  the  body  has  a  share  in  it — indeed, 
a  great  share.  So  sweet  are  the  colloquies  of  love  which  pass 
between  the  soul  and  God  that  if  anyone  thinks  I  am  lying  I 
beseech  God,  in  His  goodness,  to  give  him  the  same  experience.1 
During  the  days  that  this  continued,  I  went  about  as  if  in  a 
stupor.  I  had  no  wish  to  see  or  speak  with  anyone,  but  only  to 
hug  my  pain,  which  caused  me  greater  bliss  than  any  that  can 
come  from  the  whole  of  creation,  I  was  like  this  on  several 
occasions,  when  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  send  me  these  raptures, 
and  so  deep  were  they  that,  even  when  I  was  with  other  people, 
I  could  not  resist  them;  so,  greatly  to  my  distress,  they  began  to  be 
talked  about.  Since  I  have  had  them,  I  do  not  feel  this  pain  so 
much,  but  only  the  pain  of  which  I  spoke  somewhere  before — 
I  do  not  remember  in  what  chapter.2  The  latter  is,  in  many 
respects,  very  different  from  this,  and  of  greater  worth.  But, 
when  this  pain  of  which  I  am  now  speaking  begins,  the  Lord 
seems  to  transport  the  soul  and  to  send  it  into  an  ecstasy,  so  that 
it  cannot  possibly  suffer  or  have  any  pain  because  it  immediately 
begins  to  experience  fruition.  May  He  be  blessed  for  ever,  Who 
bestows  so  many  favours  on  one  who  so  ill  requites  such  great 
benefits. 

1  [P.  Silverio  dates  this  occurrence  "about  1562"  but  gives  no  evidence  for  the  date, 
and  I  see  none.  An  earlier  year  (1559-60)  is  more  usually  given.]  Carmelite  tradition 
has  it  that  St.  Teresa  received  the  same  favour  again  while  Prioress  of  the  Incarnation, 
between  1571  and  1574.  The  heart  of  the  Saint  has  not  unnaturally  been  the  subject 
of  the  most  extraordinary  inventions.  [Some  of  these  are  described  by  P.  Silverio.] 
On  May  25,  1726,  Pope  Benedict  XIII  appointed  a  festival  and  office  for  the  Trans- 
verberation,  which  is  observed  on  August  27.  First  instituted  for  the  Discalced 
Carmelites,  it  was  extended  to  Spain  as  a  whole  by  Clement  XII  on  December  1 1, 

"Chap.  XX. 


194  LIFE  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Takes  up  the  course  of  her  life  again  and  tells  how  the  Lord  granted  her 
great  relief  from  her  trials  by  bringing  her  a  visit  from  the  holy  man 
Fray  Peter  of  Alcdntara,  of  the  Order  of  the  glorious  Saint  Francis. 
Discusses  the  severe  temptations  and  interior  trials  which  she  some- 
times suffered. 

Now  when  I  saw  that  I  could  do  little  or  nothing  to  stop  my- 
self from  experiencing  these  violent  impulses,  I  began  to  be 
afraid  of  them,  for  I  could  not  understand  how  distress  and  con- 
tentment could  go  together.  I  already  knew  that  it  was  quite 
possible  for  physical  distress  and  spiritual  contentment  to  exist 
together  in  the  same  person  but  it  bewildered  me  to  experience 
such  excessive  spiritual  distress  and  with  it  such  intense  joy. 
Though  I  still  did  not  cease  striving  to  resist,  I  could  do  so  little 
that  it  sometimes  fatigued  me.  I  used  to  seek  the  protection  of  the 
Cross  and  to  try  to  defend  myself  against  Him  Who  through  the 
Cross  became  the  Protector  of  us  aU.  I  saw  that  no  one  under- 
stood me,  though  I  understood  it  very  clearly  myself;  I  did  not 
dare,  however,  to  speak  of  it  save  to  my  confessor,  for  to  have  done 
so  would  certainly  have  been  to  proclaim  that  I  had  no  humility. 

The  Lord  was  pleased  to  grant  me  relief  from  a  great  part 
of  my  trials,  and,  for  the  time  being,  from  all  of  them,  by  bringing 
to  this  place  the  blessed  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara,  whom  I  mentioned 
earlier  when  I  said  something  about  his  penitential  life:  among 
other  things,  I  have  been  assured  that  for  twenty  years  he  con- 
tinuously wore  a  shirt  made  of  iron.1  He  i$  the  author  of  some 
little  books  on  prayer,  written  in  Spanish,2  which  are  being  used 
a  great  deal  nowadays;  as  he  was  a  man  with  great  experience 
of  prayer,  his  writings  are  very  profitable  for  those  who  practise 
it.  He  kept  the  Primitive  Rule  of  the  blessed  Saint  Francis  in  all 
its  rigour,  as  well  as  doing  those  other  things  of  which  something 
has  already  been  said. 

In  due  course  that  servant  of  God — the  widow  of  whom  I  have 
spoken  and  who  was  a  friend  of  mine 3 — learned  that  this  great 
man  was  here.  She  knew  of  my  necessities,  for  she  was  a  witness 
of  my  afflictions  and  used  to  afford  me  great  consolation,  her 
faith  being  so  strong  that  she  could  not  believe  that  what  most 
«  t 

1  [Hoja  de  latai  lit ,  "tinplate."] 

*[Thc  only  one  of  these  "little  books"  still  extant  is  the  Treatise  of  Prayer  and 
Medttation-  S.S M.,  II,  106.] 
8  Dona  Guiomar  de  UUoa. 


XXX]  LIFE  195 

people  said  was  of  the  devil  was  really  the  work  of  the  Spirit  of 
God;  and,  as  she  is  a  person  of  very  great  intelligence  and  is  also 
most  discreet  and  was  receiving  many  favours  from  the  Lord  in 
prayer,  His  Majesty  was  pleased  to  enlighten  her  upon  matters  of 
which  learned  men  were  ignorant.  My  confessors  gave  me 
permission  to  relieve  my  mind  by  talking  to  her  about  certain 
things,  because  for  a  multitude  of  reasons  she  was  a  suitable 
person  for  such  confidences.  She  sometimes  shared  in  the  favours 
which  the  Lord  was  granting  me  and  would  receive  counsels 
which  were  of  great  benefit  to  her  soul.  Well,  when  she  learned 
that  this  holy  man  was  here,  she  said  nothing  to  me  but  obtained 
leave  from  my  Provincial  for  me  to  stay  with  her  for  a  week  so  as 
to  give  me  a  better  opportunity  of  consulting  him.  So  on  this 
occasion  of  his  first  visit  I  had  many  talks  with  him,  both  in  her 
house  and  in  several  churches,  and  later  I  had  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  him  on  many  occasions.  I  gave  him  a  summary  account 
of  my  life  and  method  of  prayer  with  the  greatest  clarity  of  which 
I  was  capable ;  for  I  have  always  acted  on  the  principle  of  speaking 
with  the  utmost  clarity  and  truth  to  those  whom  I  consult  about 
my  soul.  I  would  ajways  try  to  reveal  to  them  its  very  first 
motions  and  tell  them  even  the  most  dubious  and  suspicious 
things  about  myself:  indeed,  in  discussing  these  matters  with 
them  I  would  put  forward  arguments  which  told  against  me.  I 
was  able,  therefore,  to  reveal  my  soul  to  Fray  Peter  without 
duplicity  or  concealment. 

Almost  from  the  beginning,  I  saw  that,  out  of  his  own  exper- 
ience, he  understood  me.  And  that  was  all  I  needed;  for  I  did  not 
understand  myself  then  as  I  do  now,  and  I  could  not  describe 
what  I  was  experiencing.  Since  that  time  God  has  granted  me  tixe 
ability  to  understand  and  describe  the  favours  which  His  Majesty 
sends  me.  But  just  then  I  needed  someone  who  had  gone  through 
it  all  himself,  for  such  a  person  alone  could  understand  me  and 
interpret  my  experiences.  He  enlightened  me  wonderfully  about 
them.  I  had  been  unable,  at  least  as  regards  the  visions  which 
were  not  imaginary,  to  understand  what  they  could  all  mean: 
I  did  not  see  how  I  could  understand  the  nature  of  visions  which 
I  saw  with  the  eyes  of  the  soul,  fors  as  I  have  said,  I  had  thought 
that  only  visions  which  can  be  seen  with  the  bodily  eyes  are  of  any 
importance,  and  of  these  I  had  none. 

This  holy  man  enlightened  me  about  the  whole  matter,  ex- 
plained it  all  to  me  and  told  me  not  to  be  distressed  but  to  praise 
God  and  be  quite  certain  that  it  was  the  work  of  the  Spirit; 
with  the  exception  of  the  Faith,  he  said,  there  could  be  nothing 
truer,  and  Nothing  in  which  I  could  more  confidently  believe. 
He  derived  great  happiness  from  what  I  said  to  him,  was  helpful 


196  LIFE  [CHAP. 

and  kind  to  me  in  every  way  and  ever  afterwards  took  a  great 
interest  in  me  and  told  me  about  his  own  affairs  and  undertakings. 
When  he  saw  that  I  had  desires  which  he  himself  had  already 
carried  into  effect — for  the  Lord  had  bestowed  very  resolute 
desires  upon  me — and  when  he  found,  too,  that  I  was  so  full  of 
courage,  he  delighted  in  talking  to  me  about  these  things.  For 
if  the  Lord  brings  anyone  to  this  state  he  will  find  no  pleasure  or 
comfort  equal  to  that  of  meeting  with  another  whom  he  believes 
He  has  brought  along  the  first  part  of  the  same  road — for  at  this 
time  I  could  not,  I  think,  have  gone  much  farther  than  that: 
please  God  I  may  still  be  as  far  advanced  as  I  was  then. 

He  had  the  greatest  compassion  on  me.  He  told  me  that  the 
trial  I  had  been  suffering — that  is  to  say,  the  opposition  of  good 
people — was  one  of  the  severest  in  the  world  and  that  there  would 
be  many  more  such  trials  awaiting  me.  I  should  therefore  have 
continual  need  of  someone  who  understood  me  and  there  was  no 
such  person  in  this  city,  but  he  would  speak  to  the  priest  to  whom 
I  made  my  confessions,  and  also  to  one  of  those  who  caused  me 
the  deepest  distress — namely,  that  married  man  of  whom  I  have 
already  spoken.  The  latter,  just  because  he  bore  me  the  greatest 
goodwill,  opposed  me  more  than  anyone  else:  being  a  holy  and 
God-fearing1  soul,  and  having  so  recently  seen  how  wicked  I  was, 
he  could  not  bring  himself  to  have  any  confidence  about  me. 
The  saintly  man  did  as  he  had  said  he  would:  he  spoke  to  them 
both  and  put  reasons  and  arguments  before  them  as  to  why  they 
should  be  reassured  about  me  and  not  cause  me  any  more  dis- 
quiet. My  confessor  hardly  needed  the  advice.  This  gentleman, 
however,  even  when  he  had  heard  it,  was  not  completely  con- 
vinced, but  it  was  sufficient  to  prevent  him  from  frightening  me 
as  much  as  he  had  been  doing. 

We  arranged — Fray  Peter  and  I — that  from  that  time  onward 
I  should  write  and  tell  him  of  anything  that  happened  to  me 
and  that  we  should  commend  each  other  earnestly  to  God;  for  so 
great  was  his  humility  that  he  thought  that  there  was  value  in 
the  prayers  of  this  miserable  creature,  which  made  me  very  much 
ashamed.  He  left  me  greatly  comforted  and  very  happy,  telling 
me  to  continue  confidently  in  prayer  and  not  to  doubt  that  the 
prayer  came  from  God.  For  my  greater  security,  I  was  to  report 
any  doubts  I  might  have  to  my  confessor;  and,  provided  I  did 
this,  I  should  feel  safe  all  my  life.  I  was  unable,  however,  to 
experience  this  feeling  of  complete  security,  for  the  Lord  was  lead- 
ing me  by  the  road  of  fear,  with  the  result  that,  whenever  I  was 

1[This  word,  temerosa,  might  also  be  translated  " timorous ",  "timid"  but  St. 
Teresa's  use  of  "and",  rather  than  of  "but",  to' connect  it  with  "holy'*  seems  to 
indicate  the  meaning  given  in  the  text.] 


XXX]  LIFE  197 

told  that  the  devil  was  deceiving  me,  I  would  believe  it.  In 
reality,  none  of  my  advisers  was  able  to  make  me  feel  either 
afraid  enough  or  secure  enough  to  believe  in  him  rather  than  in 
the  feelings  which  the  Lord  implanted  in  my  soul.  So,  although 
Fray  Peter  comforted  and  calmed  me,  I  had  not  sufficient  trust 
in  him  to  be  wholly  without  fear,  especially  when  the  Lord  left 
me  with  the  spiritual  trials  which  I  shall  now  describe.  But,  on 
the  whole,  as  I  say,  I  was  greatly  comforted.  I  was  never  weary 
of  giving  thanks  to  God  and  to  my  glorious  father  Saint  Joseph, 
who  seemed  to  me  to  have  brought  Fray  Peter  here,  as  he  was 
Commissary  General  of  the  Custody1  of  Saint  Joseph,  to  whom, 
as  to  Our  Lady,  I  used  often  to  commend  myself.  I  had  sometimes 
to  endure — and  still  have,  though  to  a  lesser  degree — the  sorest 
spiritual  trials,  together  with  bodily  pains  and  tortures,  so  severe 
that  I  could  do  nothing  to  ease  them.  At  other  times  I  suffered 
from  more  grievous  bodily  ills,  and,  if  I  had  no  spiritual  distress, 
I  bore  these  with  great  joy.  It  was  when  both  kinds  of  distress 
came  upon  me  together  that  my  trials  were  so  great  and  caused 
me  such  deep  depression.  I  would  forget  all  the  favours  that  the 
Lord  had  bestowed  upon  me:  nothing  would  remain  with  me 
but  the  mere  recollection  of  them,  like  the  memory  of  a  dream, 
and  this  was  a  great  distress  to  me.  For,  when  a  person  is  in  this 
condition,  the  understanding  becomes  stupid;  and  so  I  was 
tormented  by  a  thousand  doubts  and  suspicions.  I  thought  that 
I  had  not  understood  it  properly,  and  that  it  might  have  been  my 
fancy,  and  that  it  was  bad  enough  for  me  to  be  deluded  myself, 
without  deluding  good  men  as  well.  I  felt  I  was  so  evil  that  I 
began  to  think  that  all  the  evils  and  heresies  that  had  arisen  were 
due  to  my  sins. 

This  is  a  false  humility;  and  it  was  invented  by  the  devil  so 
that  he  might  unsettle  me  and  see  if  he  could  drive  my  soul  to 
despair.  I  have  had  so  much  experience  by  now  of  the  devil's 
work  that  he  sees  I  know  his  tricks  and  so  he  troubles  me  much 
less  with  this  kind  of  torture  than  he  used  to.  His  part  in  it  is 
evident  from  the  disquiet  and  unrest  with  which  it  begins,  from 
the  turmoil  which  he  creates  in  the  soul  for  so  long  as  his  influence 
lasts,  and  from,  the  darkness  and  affliction  into  which  he  plunges 
it,  causing  it  an  aridity  and  an  ill-disposition  for  prayer  and  for 
everything  that  is  good.  He  seems  to  stifle  the  soul  and  to  con- 
strain the  body,  and  thus  to  render  both  powerless.  For,  though 
the  soul  is  conscious  of  its  own  wretchedness  and  it  distresses  us 
to  see  what  we  are  and  our  wickedness  seems  to  us  to  be  of  the 
worst  possible  kind — as  bad  as  that  which  has  just  been  described 

1  [The  Franciscan  term  for  a  group  of  religious  houses  not  large  enough  to  form  a 
province.] 


ig8  LIFE  [CHAP 

— and  we  feel  it  very  deeply,  yet  genuine  humility  does  not  produce 
inward  turmoil,  nor  does  it  cause  unrest  in  the  soul,  or  bring  it 
darkness  or  aridity:  on  the  contrary,  it  cheers  it  and  produces 
in  it  the  opposite  effects — quietness,  sweetness  and  light.  Though 
it  causes  us  distress,  we  are  comforted  to  see  what  a  great  favour 
God  is  granting  us  by  sending  us  that  distress  and  how  well  the 
soul  is  occupied.  Grieved  as  it  is  at  having  offended  God,  it  is 
also  encouraged  by  Has  mercy.  It  is  sufficiently  enlightened  to 
feel  ashamed,  but  it  praises  His  Majesty,  Who  for  so  long  has 
borne  with  it.  In  that  other  humility,  which  is  the  work  of  the 
devil,  the  soul  has  not  light  enough  to  do  anything  good  and  thinks 
of  God  as  of  one  who  is  always  wielding  fire  and  sword.  It 
pictures  God's  righteousness,  and,  although  it  has  faith  in  His 
mercy,  for  the  devil  is  not  powerful  enough  to  make  it  lose  its 
faith,  yet  this  is  not  such  as  to  bring  me  consolation,  for,  when  my 
soul  considers  God's  mercy,  this  only  increases  its  torment,  since 
I  realize  that  it  involves  me  in  greater  obligations.1 

This  is  an  invention  of  the  devil,  and  one  of  the  most  grievous 
and  subtle  and  dissembling  that  I  have  found  in  him,  and  so  I 
should  lite  to  warn  Your  Reverence  of  it,  so  that,  if  he  should 
tempt  you  in  this  way,  you  may  have  some  light,  and  may 
recognize  his  hand,  if  he  leaves  you  sufficient  understanding 
for  doing  so.  Do  not  suppose  that  learning  and  knowledge  have 
anything  to  do  with  this,  for  I  am  wholly  destitute  of  both,  and  yet, 
after  escaping  from  the  devil's  wiles,  I  see  quite  clearly  that  this 
is  folly.  What  I  have  learned  is  that  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  give 
him  permission  and  leave  to  tempt  us,  just  as  He  gave  him 
leave  to  tempt  Job,  although,  being  so  wicked,  I  am  not  myself 
tempted  as  severely  as  that. 

I  have,  however,  been  tempted  in  this  way — once,  I  remember, 
on  the  day  before  the  vigil  of  Corpus  Ghristi,  a  festival  to  which 
I  am  devoted,  though  not  so  much  so  as  I  ought  to  be.  On  that 
occasion  the  temptation  lasted  only  until  the  day  of  the  festival: 
on  other  occasions  it  has  lasted  for  a  week  or  a  fortnight,  or  even 
perhaps  for  three  weeks,  or  it  may  have  been  even  longer.  In 
particular  it  used  to  come  during  Holy  Week,  a  time  when  I 
would  derive  great  comfort  from  prayer.  What  happens  on  such 
occasions  is  that  the  devil  suddenly  lays  hold  on  my  understanding, 
sometimes  by  making  use  of  things  so  trifling  that  at  any  other 
time  I  should  laugh  at  them.  He  confuses  the  understanding  and 
does  whatever  he  likes  with  it,  so  that  the  soul,  fettered  as  it  is 
and  no  longer  its  own  mistress,  can  think  of  nothing  but  the 
absurdities  which  he  presents  to  it — things  of  no  importance, 

1  [The  sudden  and  characteristic  change  of  person  is  reproduced  exactly  from  the 

•"--Trial  1 


XXX]  LIFE  199 

which  neither  keep  the  soul  in  bondage  nor  allow  it  to  be  free,  and 
enslave  it  only  in  the  sense  that  they  stupefy  it  until  its  control 
over  itself  is  gone.  It  has  sometimes  seemed  to  me,  indeed,  that 
the  devils  behave  as  though  they  were  playing  ball  with  the  sou!3 
so  incapable  is  it  of  freeing  itself  from  their  power.  Its  sufferings 
at  such  a  time  are  indescribable.  It  goes  about  in  search  of 
relief  and  God  allows  it  to  find  none;  it  has  only  the  reasoning 
power  derived  from  its  free-will,  and  it  is  unable  to  reason 
clearly.  I  mean  that  its  eyes  seem  to  be  almost  blindfolded:  it  is 
like  someone  who  has  gone  along  a  particular  road  again  and 
again,  so  that,  even  if  it  is  night,  and  quite  dark,  he  knows  by  the 
instinct  which  comes  from  experience  where  he  is  likely  to  stumble, 
for  he  has  seen  the  road  by  day  and  is  therefore  on  his  guard 
against  that  danger.  Just  so  the  soul,  in  avoiding  giving  offence  to 
God,  seems  to  be  walking  by  habit.  This  explanation,  however, 
leaves  out  of  account  the  fact  that  the  Lord  has  it  in  His  keeping, 
which  is  the  thing  that  matters. 

At  such  a  time,  faith,  like  all  the  other  virtues,  is  quite  numbed 
and  asleep.  It  is  not  lost,  for  the  soul  has  a  firm  belief  in  what 
is  held  by  the  Church;  but,  though  it  can  testify  with  the  mouth, 
it  seems  in  other  respects  to  be  oppressed  and  stupefied,  and  it 
feels  as  if  it  knows  God  only  as  something  of  which  it  has  heard 
from  afar  off.  So  lukewarm  does  its  love  become  that,  if  it  hears 
Him  spoken  of,  it  listens,  believing  that  He  is  Who  He  is,  because 
this  is  held  by  the  Church,  but  it  retains  no  memory  of  its  own 
experiences  of  Him.  To  go  and  say  its  prayers,  or  to  be  alone,  only 
causes  it  greater  anguish,  for  the  inward  torture  which  it  feels, 
without  knowing  the  source  of  it,  is  intolerable;  and,  in  my 
opinion,  bears  some  slight  resemblance  to  hell.  Indeed  this  is  a 
fact,  for  the  Lord  revealed  it  to  me  in  a  vision:  the  soul  is  in- 
wardly burning,  without  knowing  who  has  kindled  the  fire,  nor 
whence  it  comes,  nor  how  to  flee  from  it,  nor  with  what  to  put  it 
out.  In  vain  does  it  seek  a  remedy  in  reading:  it  might  as  well  be 
unable  to  read  at  all.  Once  I  chanced  to  take  up  the  Life  of  a  saint, 
to  see  if  I  could  become  absorbed  in  the  reading  of  it  and  find 
comfort  in  thinking  of  the  saint's  sufferings*  But  I  read  four  or 
five  lines  as  many  times,  and,  though  they  were  in  Spanish,  I 
understood  less  of  them  at  the  end  than  at  the  beginning;  so  I 
gave  it  up.  This  happened  to  me  on  many  occasions  but  I  have 
a  particular  recollection  of  that  one. 

To  engage  in  conversation  with  anyone  is  worse  still,  for  the 
devil  then  makes  me  so  peevish  and  ill-tempiered  that  I  seem  to 
want  to  snap  everyone  up.  I  cannot  help  this,  but  if  I  can  keep 
myself  in  hand  I  feel  I  am  doing  something,  or  rather  that  the 
Lord  is  doing  something  when  His  hand  restrains  anyone  in  this 


200  LIFE  [CHAP. 

condition  from  saying  or  doing  anything  which  may  harm  his 
neighbour  or  offend  God.  Then  again,  it  is  certainly  useless  to 
go  to  one's  confessor.  I  will  tell  you  what  often  happened  to  me. 
Saintly  as  were  those  whom  I  was  consulting  at  that  time,  and  am 
consulting  still,  they  would  say  such  things  to  me,  and  reprove 
me  with  such  asperity  that,  when  I  spoke  to  them  about  it  later, 
they  were  astonished  at  it  themselves  but  said  that  they  had  been 
unable  to  do  otherwise.  For,  although  they  had  previously  made 
up  their  minds  not  to  speak  to  me  like  this,  and  afterwards  would 
be  sorry  they  had  done  so,  and  even  feel  scruples  about  it  because 
of  these  bodily  and  spiritual  trials  which  I  was  suffering,  the 
resolutions  they  had  made  to  comfort  me  with  words  of  com- 
passion would  fall  to  the  ground. 

The  words  they  used  were  not  wrong — not  offensive,  I  mean, 
to  God — but  they  were  the  strongest  words  of  displeasure  per- 
missible in  a  confessor.  Their  aim  must  have  been  to  mortify 
me,  and,  although  at  other  times  I  delighted  in  mortification 
and  was  well  able  to  bear  it,  it  was  now  pure  torture  to  me.  Then, 
too,  I  used  to  think  I  was  deceiving  them,  so  I  would  go  and  warn 
them  most  earnestly  to  be  on  their  guard  against  me  in  case  I 
might  be  doing  so.  I  knew  quite  well  that  I  would  not  deceive 
them  intentionally,  or  tell  them  a  lie,  but  I  was  thoroughly 
afraid.  One  of  them,  realizing  how  I  was  being  tempted,  once 
told  me  not  to  be  distressed,  for,  even  if  I  tried  to  deceive  him,  he 
had  discernment  enough  not  to  allow  himself  to  be  deceived.1 
This  was  a  great  comfort  to  me. 

Sometimes — almost  habitually,  indeed,  or  at  least  very  fre- 
quently-— I  would  find  relief  after  communicating.  There  were 
times,  in  fact,  when  the  very  act  of  approaching  the  Sacrament 
would  at  once  make  me  feel  so  well,  both  in  soul  and  in  body, 
that  I  was  astounded.  I  would  feel  as  if  all  the  darkness  in  my  soul 
had  suddenly  been  dispersed  and  the  sun  had  come  out'  and 
shown  me  the  stupidity  of  the  things  I  had  been  saying  and 
doing.  At  other  times,  if  the  Lord  spoke  only  one  word  to  me  (if, 
for  example,  as  on  the  occasion  I  have  already  described,  He  said 
no  more  than  "Be  not  troubled:  have  no  fear"),  that  one  word 
completely  cured  me,  or,  if  I  were  to  see  some  vision,  it  was 
as  if  there  had  been  nothing  wrong  with  me.  I  rejoiced  in  God 
and  made  my  complaint  to  Him,  asking  Him  how  He  could  allow 
me  to  suffer  such  tortures,  but  telling  Him  that  I  was  well  re- 
warded for  them,  since,  when  they  were  over,  I  almost  invariably 
received  favours  in  great  abundance.  My  soul  seemed  to  emerge 
from  the  crucible  like  gold,  both  brighter  and  purer,  to  find  the 
Lord  within  it.  So  trials  like  these,  unbearable  as  they  may  seem, 

1  P.  Baltasar  Alvarez,  according  to  Grac&n. 


XXX]  LIFE  201 

eventually  become  light,  and  the  soul  becomes  anxious  to  suffer 
again  if  by  so  doing  it  can  render  the  Lord  greater  service.  And, 
however  numerous  may  be  ,our  troubles  and  persecutions,  if  we 
endure  them  without  offending  the  Lord,  but  rejoice  to  suffer 
for  His  sake,  they  all  work  together  for  our  greater  gain — though 
I  do  not  myself  bear  them  as  they  should  be  borne,  but  in  a  way 
which  is  most  imperfect. 

On  other  occasions  these  temptations  came  to  me  in  another 
fashion,  as  they  do  still.  At  such  times  as  these  I  seem  to  have 
been  totally  deprived  of  the  possibility  of  thinking  a  single  good 
thought  or  of  desiring  to  put  it  into  practice.  My  soul  and  body 
seem  to  be  completely  useless  and  merely  a  burden  to  me.  But 
I  do  not  then  have  these  other  temptations  and  discomforts :  only 
a  feeling  of  dissatisfaction — with  what,  I  do  not  know — so  that 
there  is  nothing  in  which  my  soul  can  take  pleasure.  I  used  to 
try  to  occupy  myself  with  the  outward  performance  of  good 
works,  and  I  would  half  force  myself  to  do  these,  and  I  know  well 
how  little  a  soul  can  do  when  it  is  without  grace.  This  did  not 
cause  me  great  distress,  for  I  derived  some  satisfaction  from 
realizing  my  own  baseness.  At  other  times  I  find  myself  unable 
to  formulate  a  single  definite  thought,  other  than  quite  a  fleeting 
one,  about  God,  or  about  anything  good,  or  to  engage  in  prayer, 
even  when  I  am  alone;  yet  none  the  less  I  feel  that  I  know  Him. 

It  is  the  understanding  and  the  imagination,  I  think,  which 
are  doing  me  harm  here.  My  will,  I  believe,  is  good,  and  well- 
disposed  to  all  good  things;  but  this  understanding  is  so  depraved 
that  it  seems  to  be  nothing  but  a  raving  lunatic — nobody  can 
repress  it  and  I  have  not  myself  sufficient  control  of  it  to  keep  it 
quiet  for  a  moment.  Sometimes  I  laugh  at  myself  and  realize 
what  a  miserable  creature  I  am  and  then  I  keep  an  eye  on  my 
understanding  and  leave  it  alone  to  see  what  it  will  do;  and  for  a 
wonder — glory  be  to  God! — it  never  occupies  itself  with  evil 
things,  but  only  with  indifferent  ones,  looking  round  for  things 
to  thmk  about  here,  there  and  everywhere.  I  then  become  more 
conscious  of  the-  exceeding  great  favour  which  the  Lord  bestows 
on  me  when  He  keeps  this  lunatic  bound  and  allows  me  to  enjoy 
perfect  contemplation.  I  sometimes  reflect  on  what  would  happen 
if  people  who  think  of  me  as  good  were  to  see  me  in  this  condition 
of  distraction.  I  am  deeply  grieved  when  I  find  that  my  soul 
is  in  such  bad  company.  I  want  to  see  it  free,  so  I  say  to  the 
Lord:  "When,  my  God,  shall  I  at  last  see  all  the  faculties  of  my 
soul  united  in  Thy  praise  and  having  fruition  of  Thee?  Permit 
my  soul  no  longer,  Lord,  to  be  dispersed  in  fragments,  with  each 
fragment  seeming  to  go  its  own  way.  This  is  an  experience  I 
often  have,  but  sometimes  I  know  quite  well  that  my  poor  bodily 


202  LIFE  [CHAP. 

health  is  having  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  I  often  think  of  the 
harm  wrought  in  us  by  original  sin;  it  is  this,  I  believe,  that  has 
made  us  incapable  of  enjoying  so  much  good  all  at  once,  and 
added  to  this  are  my  own  sins,  for,  had  I  not  committed  so  many, 
I  should  have  been  more  nearly  perfect  in  goodness. 

There  was  another  great  trial,  too,  which  I  suffered.  I  used  to 
think  I  understood  all  the  books  dealing  with  prayer  which  I 
read,  and  that,  as  the  Lord  had  bestowed  this  gift  of  prayer 
upon  me,  I  no  longer  needed  them.  So  I  left  off  reading  them 
and  read  only  lives  of  saints,  for,  as  I  find  myself  falling  so  far 
short  of  the  saints  in  the  service  which  they  rendered  to  God,  such 
reading  helps  me  and  spurs  me  on  to  do  better.  Then  it  would 
occur  to  me  that  it  showed  a  great  lack  of  humility  to  suppose 
that  I  had  received  that  gift  of  prayer,  and,  as  I  could  not  succeed 
in  persuading  myself  of  the  contrary,  I  was  greatly  distressed, 
until  learned  men,  and  the  blessed  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara, 
told  me  not  to  let  it  trouble  me.  I  realize  perfectly  that,  although 
in  granting  me  favours  His  Majesty  treats  me  as  He  does  many 
good  people,  I  have  not  yet  begun  to  serve  Him,  and  that  I  am 
nothing  but  imperfection  except  in  desire  and  love,  with  regard 
to  which  I  know  well  the  Lord  has  helped  me  so  that  I  may  render 
Him  some  service.  I  do  really  believe  I  love  Him,  but  my  actions 
and  the  many  imperfections  which  I  find  in  myself  discourage 
me. 

At  other  times  my  soul  is  troubled  by  what  I  should  call  a 
kind  of  foolishness :  I  seem  to  be  doing  neither  good  nor  evil, 
but  to  be  following  the  crowd,  as  they  say,  without  experiencing 
either  suffering  or  bliss.  I  care  not  whether  I  live  or  die,  nor 
whether  I  experience  pleasure  or  pain:  I  seem  to  feel  nothing* 
The  soul  appears  to  me  to  be  like  a  little  ass,  feeding  and  sustain- 
ing its  life  by  means  of  the  food  which  is  given  it  and  which  it  eats 
almost  unconsciously.  For  the  soul  in  this  state  cannot  do  other- 
wise than  feed  on  some  of  God's  great  favours ;  it  does  not  mind 
living  this  miserable  life  and  bears  its  existence  with  equanimity, 
but  it  is  quite  unconscious  of  any  motions  or  effects  which  might 
help  it  to  understand  its  condition. 

This,  it  now  seems  to  me,  is  like  sailing  with  a  very  calm  wind: 
one  makes  great  headway,  but  without  knowing  how,  whereas 
in  these  other  experiences  the  effects  are  so  noticeable  that  the 
soul  almost  immediately  becomes  conscious  of  its  improvement, 
for  the  desires  begin  at  once  to  be  aroused  and  the  soul  is  never 
folly  satisfied.  This  is  the  result  of  the  violent  impulses  of  love, 
which  I  have  already  mentioned,  in  those  to  whom  God  gives 
them.  It  reminds  me  of  little  springs  which  I  have  seen  gushing 
up  and  which  keep  on  incessantly  stirring  up  the  sand  all  around 


XXX]  LIFE  203 

them.  This,  I  think,  is  a  very  lifelike  illustration  or  comparison 
to  apply  to  souls  which  attain  to  this  state.  Love  is  continually 
bubbling  up  in  them  and  thinking  of  the  things  it  will  do :  it 
cannot  remain  where  it  is,  just  as  the  spring-water  seems  unable  to 
remain  in  the  earth,  but  issues  forth  from  it.  Just  so,  as  a  general 
rule,  is  it  with  the  soul:  such  is  the  love  it  has  that  it  can  find  no 
rest,  nor  can  it  contain  itself,  and  it  has  already  saturated  the 
earth  around.  It  would  like  others  to  drink  of  its  love,  since  it  has 
itself  no  lack  of  it,  so  that  they  might  help  it  to  praise  God,  Oh, 
how  often  do  I  remember  the  living  water  of  which  the  Lord 
spoke  to  the  woman  of  Samaria!  I  am  so  fond  of  that  Gospel. 
I  have  loved  it  ever  since  I  was  quite  a  child — though  I  did  not, 
of  course,  understand  it  properly  then,  as  I  do  now — and  I  used 
often  to  beseech  the  Lord  to  give  me  that  water.  I  had  a  picture 
of  the  Lord  at  the  well,  which  hung  where  I  could  always  see  it, 
and  bore  the  inscription:  "Domine,  da  mihi  aquam."1 

This  love  is  also  like  a  great  fire,  which  has  always  to  be  fed 
lest  it  should  go  out.  Just  so  with  the  souls  I  am  describing: 
cost  them  what  it  might,  they  would  always  want  to  be  bringing 
wood,  so  that  this  fire  should  not  die.  For  my  own  part,  I  am 
the  sort  of  person  who  would  be  satisfied  if  she  had  even  straw  to 
throw  upon  it,  and  it  is  sometimes — often,  indeed — like  that  with 
me.  Now  I  am  laughing;  now  I  am  greatly  troubled.  An  inward 
impulse  moves  me  to  serve  God  in  some  way,  but  I  am  useless 
except  for  decking  images  with  branches  of  trees  and  flowers, 
or  for  sweeping  or  tidying  an  oratory  or  doing  other  trifling  things 
which  I  am  ashamed  of.  If  I  did  anything  in  the  way  of  penance, 
it  wa§  all  so  insignificant  that,  unless  the  Lord  would  take  the 
will  for  the  deed,  I  realized  how  completely  worthless  it  was  and 
scoffed  at  my  own  self.  It  is  no  small  trial,  then,  for  souls  to  whom 
God  in  His  goodness  grants  an  abundance  of  this  fire  of  His 
love,  that  they  should  lack  bodily  strength  to  enable  them  to  do 
anything  for  Him.  It  is  a  very  great  grief;  for,  when  a  soul  lacks 
the  strength  to  throw  any  wood  on  this  fire,  and  is  frightened  to 
death  lest  it  should  go  out,  I  think  it  becomes  consumed  itself 
and  turns  into  ashes,  or  melts  into  tears,  and  is  burned  up; 
and  this,  though  delectable,  is  severe  torture. 

Let  the  soul  give  great  praise  to  the  Lord  when  it  has  progressed 
as  far  as  this,  and  when  He  has  granted  it  bodily  strength  to 
enable  it  to  do  penance,  or  given  it  learning  and  talent  and 
freedom  to  preach,  hear  confessions  and  bring  souls  to  God. 

1  St.  John  iv.  15:  "Sir,  give  me  this  water."  These  words,  which  form  part  of  the 
Gospel  for  the  Friday  after  the  third  Sunday  in  Lent,  the  Saint  could  have  read  as  a 
child  beneath  a  picture  of  the  scene  in  the  Gospel,  On  her  father's  death  the  picture 
was  given  to  the  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  -where  it  is  still  preserved. 


204  LIFE  [CHAP. 

It  has  no  knowledge  or  understanding  of  the  blessing  it  possesses 
if  it  has  not  learned  by  experience  what  it  is  to  be  able  to  do  noth- 
ing in  the  Lord's  service  and  always  to  be  receiving  so  much 
from  Him.  May  He  be  blessed  for  all  things  and  may  the  angels 
glorify  Him.  Amen. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  am  doing  right  to  say  so  much  about  trifles. 
As  Your  Reverence  has  again  sent  me  a  message  telling  me  not  to 
mind  writing  at  length  and  to  omit  nothing,  I  am  continuing 
to  give  a  true  and  clear  description  of  everything  that  I  remember. 
But  I  cannot  help  omitting  a  great  deal,  for  otherwise  I  should 
have  to  devote  much  more  time  to  this  (and,  as  I  said,  I  have 
so  little  time)  without  perhaps  doing  any  good  by  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Treats  of  certain  outward  temptations  and  representations  made  to  her 
by  the  devil  and  of  tortures  which  he  caused  her.  Discusses  likewise 
several  matters  which  are  extremely  useful  for  people  to  know  if  they 
are  walking  on  the  road  to  perfection. 

Having  described  certain  secret  and  inward  disturbances  and 
temptations  inflicted  upon  me  by  the  devil  I  shall  now  speak  of 
others  which  he  brought  upon  me  almost  in  public  and  in  which 
it  was  impossible  not  to  detect  his  hand. 

Once,  when  I  was  in  an  oratory,  he  appeared  on  my  left  hand 
in  an  abominable  form;  as  he  spoke  to  me,  I  paid  particular 
attention  to  his  mouth,  which  was  horrible.  Out  of  his  body 
there  seemed  to  be  coming  a  great  flame,  which  was  intensely 
bright  and  cast  no  shadow.  He  told  me  in  a  horrible  way  that  I 
had  indeed  escaped  out  of  his  hands  but  he  would  get  hold  of  me 
still.  I  was  very  much  afraid  and  made  the  sign  of  the  Gross 
as  well  as  I  could,  whereupon  he  disappeared,  but  immediately 
returned  again.  This  happened  twice  running  and  I  did  not 
know  what  to  do.  But  there  was  some  holy  water  there,  so  I 
flung  some  in  the  direction  of  the  apparition,  and  it  never  came 
back.  On  another  occasion  the  devil  was  with  me  for  five  hours, 
torturing  me  with  such  terrible  pains  and  both  inward  and 
outward  disquiet  that  I  do  not  believe  I  could  have  endured 
them  any  longer.  The  sisters  who  were  with  me  were  frightened 
to  death  and  had  no  more  idea  of  what  to  do  for.  me  than  I  had 
of  how  to  help  myself. 

When  the  pains  and  the  bodily  suffering  are  quite  intolerable, 
my  custom  is  to  make  interior  acts  as  well  as  I  can,  and  to  be- 


XXXI]  LIFE  205 

seech  the  Lord,  if  it  be  His  Majesty's  good  pleasure,  to  give  me 
patience — if  only  I  have  that  I  can  keep  on  suffering  in  this 
way  until  the  very  end  of  the  world.  So,  when  on  this  occasion 
I  found  myself  suffering  so  severely,  I  took  to  these  acts  and 
resolutions,  using  them  as  means  which  would  enable  me  to  bear 
the  pain.  The  Lord  evidently  meant  me  to  realize  that  this 
was  the  work  of  the  devil,  for  I  saw  beside  me  a  most  hideous 
little  negro,  snarling  as  if  in  despair  at  having  lost  what  he  was 
trying  to  gain.  When  I  saw  him,  I  laughed  and  was  not  afraid. 
Some  of  the  sisters  who  were  with  me  were  helpless  and  had  no 
idea  how  to  relieve  such  torture;  for  the  devU  had  made  me 
pound  the  air1  with  my  body,  head  and  arms  and  I  had  been 
powerless  to  resist  him.  But  the  worst  thing  had  been  the  interior 
disquiet:  I  could  find  no  way  of  regaining  my  tranquillity.  I 
was  afraid  to  ask  for  holy  water,  lest  I  should  frighten  my  com- 
panions and  they  should  discover  what  was  wrong. 

From  long  experience  I  have  learned  that  there  is  nothing 
like  holy  water  to  put  devils  to  flight  and  prevent  them  from 
coining  back  again.  They  also  flee  from  the  Gross,  but  return;  so 
holy  water  must  have  great  virtue.  For  my  own  part,  whenever 
I  take  it,  my  soul  feels  a  particular  and  most  notable  consolation. 
In  fact,  it  is  quite  usual  for  me  to  be  conscious  of  a  refreshment 
which  I  cannot  possibly  describe,  resembling  an  inward  joy 
which  comforts  my  whole  soul.  This  is  not  fancy,  or  something 
which  has  happened  to  me  only  once:  it  has  happened  again 
and  again  and  I  have  observed  it  most  attentively.  It  is,  let  us 
say,  as  if  someone  very  hot  and  thirsty  were  to  drink  From  a  jug 
of  cold  water:  he  would  feel  the  refreshment  throughout  his  body. 
I  often  reflect  on  the  great  importance  of  everything  ordained 
by  the  Church  and  it  makes  me  very  happy  to  find  that  those 
words  of  the  Church  are  so  powerful  that  they  impart  their  power 
to  the  water  and  make  it  so  very  different  from  water  which  has 
not  been  blessed. 

Well,  as  my  tortures  did  not  cease,  I  said:  u If  you  wouldn't 
laugh  at  me,  I  should  ask  for  some  holy  water."  So  they  brought 
me  some  and  sprinkled  me  with  it  but  it  did  me  no  good*  Then  I 
sprinkled  some  in  the  direction  of  the  place  where  the  little  negro 
was  standing  and  immediately  he  disappeared  and  all  my 
troubles  went,  just  as  if  someone  had  lifted  them  from  me 
with  his  hand,  except  that  I  was  as  tired  as  if  I  had  been  dealt 
a  great  many  blows.  It  edified  me  greatly  to  find  that,  when 
the  Lord  gives  him  permission,  the  devil  can  do  so  much  harm 
to  a  soul  and  a  body  which  are  not  his.  For  what,  then,  I 
thought,  will  he  not  do  when  he  has  them  in  his  possession? 
1  [I**.:  "had  made  me  give  great  blows."] 


206  LIFE  [CHAP. 

And  I  felt  a  renewed  desire  lo  be  freed  from  such  pernicious 
companionship. 

On  another  occasion,  quite  recently,  the  same  thing  happened 
to  me,  though  it  did  not  last  so  long  and  I  was  alone.  I  asked  for 
holy  water,  and,  after  the  devils  had  gone  away,  the  next  persons 
to  come  in  (two  nuns  who  may  safely  be  believed,  for  they 
would  not  tell  a  lie  for  anything)  noticed  a  very  bad  smell,  like 
brimstone.  I  could  not  detect  it  myself  but  it  had  remained  there 
long  enough  for  them  to  have  noticed  it.  On  another  occasion 
I  was  in  choir  when  I  felt  a  vehement  impulse  towards  recollec- 
tion. I  went  out,  so  that  the  sisters  should  not  observe  it,  but  all 
who  were  near  me  heard  sounds  where  I  was,  like  the  noise  of 
heavy  blows,  and  I  myself  heard  voices  near  me  as  though  people 
were  discussing  something.  I  could  not  hear  what  they  were 
saying,  however:  so  deeply  immersed  was  I  in  prayer  that  I 
heard  nothing  at  all  and  I  was  not  in  the  least  afraid.  This 
happened  nearly  always  at  times  when  the  Lord  was  granting 
me  the  favour  of  allowing  some  soul,  through  my  agency,  to  be 
making  progress.  What  I  ana  now  going  to  describe  is  something 
which  actually  happened  to  me;  and  there  are  many  people 
who  will  bear  witness  to  this,  in  particular  my  present  confessor,1 
who  saw  a  written  account  of  the  occurrence  in  a  letter.  I  did  not 
tell  him  who  the  author  of  the  letter  was,  but  he  knew  quite  well. 

A  person  came  to  me  who  for  two  and  a  half  years  had  been 
living  in  mortal  sin — one  of  the  most  abominable  sins  that  I  had 
ever  heard  of — and  during  the  whole  of  that  time  he  neither 
confessed  it  nor  amended  his  life,  and  yet  went  on  saying  Mass. 
And,  though  he  confessed  his  other  sins,  when  it  came  to  that  one, 
he  would  ask  himself  how  he  could  possibly  confess  such  a  dread- 
ful thing.  He  had  a  great  desire  to  give  it  up  but  could  not  bring 
himself  to  do  so.  I  was  terribly  sorry  for  him  and  very  much 
distressed  to  find  that  God  was  being  offended  in  such  a  way.  I 
promised  him  that  I  would  pray  earnestly  to  God  that  He  would 
help  him  and  that  I  would  get  other  people  better  than  myself 
to  do  so  too,  and  I  wrote  to  a  certain  person  who,  he  said,  would 
be  able  to  distribute  the  letters.  And,  lo  and  behold,  at  the  first 
possible  moment,  he  confessed;  for  through  the  many  most  saintly 
persons  who  at  my  request  had  prayed  to  Him  on  his  behalf 
God  was  pleased  to  bestow  this  mercy  upon  his  soul,  and  I, 
miserable  though  I  am,  had  done  what  I  could  and  taken  the 
greatest  pains  about  it.  He  wrote  to  me  and  said  that  he  was  now 
so  much  better  that  days  passed  without  his  falling  into  this  sin, 
but  he  was  suffering  such  tortures  from  temptation  that  his 

1  This  would  be  either  P.  B£nez  or  P.  Garcia  de  Toledo,  who  were  the  Saint's 
confessors  from  about  1563  to  1566. 


XXXI]  LIFE  207 

distress  made  him  feel  as  if  he  were  already  in  hell;  and  lie 
asked  me  to  commend  him  to  God.  I  spoke  about  it  again  to  my 
sisters,  through  whose  prayers  the  Lord  must  have  granted  me 
this  favour,,  and  they  took  it  very  much  to  heart.  (None  of  them 
could  guess  who  he  was.)1  I  begged  His  Majesty  that  these 
tortures  and  temptations  might  be  assuaged  and  the  devils 
be  sent  to  torture  me  instead,  provided  I  gave  no  offence  to  the 
Lord.  This  led  me  to  suffer  a  month  of  the  severest  tortures  and 
it  was  during  that  time  that  the  two  incidents  happened  which  I 
have  described. 

It  was  the  Lord's  good  pleasure  that  the  devils  should  leave 
him;  this  I  learned  from  letters,  for  I  wrote  to  tell  him  what  had 
been  happening  to  me  during  the  past  month.  His  soul  took  new 
strength  and  he  remained  completely  free  from  his  sin  and  was 
never  tired  of  giving  thanks  to  the  Lord  and  to  me,  as  if  I  had  done 
anything  for  him,  unless  he  was  helped  by  his  belief  that  the 
Lord  was  granting  me  favours.  He  said  that,  when  he  found 
himself  sorely  oppressed,  he  would  read  my  letters,  and  the 
temptation  would  leave  him,  and  added  that  he  was  astounded 
to  hear  of  what  I  had  suffered  and  of  how  he  had  been  delivered. 
I  was  astounded  myself,  for  that  matter,  and  I  would  have  gone 
through  as  much  for  many  years  longer  to  set  that  soul  free.  May 
He  be  praised  for  everything,  for  the  prayers  of  those  who  serve 
the  Lord  can  do  a  great  deal  and  I  believe  the  sisters  in  this 
house  do  indeed  serve  Him.  But  the  devils  must  have  loosed 
most  of  their  wrath  on  me  because  all  this  happened  through 
my  agency  and  the  Lord  permitted  me  to  suffer  on  account  of 
my  sins. 

One  night,  too,  about  this  time,  I  thought  the  devils  were 
stifling  me;  and  when  the  nuns  had  sprinkled  a  great  deal  of  holy 
water  about  I  saw  a  huge  crowd  of  them  running  away  as  quickly 
as  though  they  were  about  to  fling  themselves  down  a  steep  place. 
So  often  have  these  accursed  creatures  tormented  me  and  so  little 
am  I  afraid  of  them,  now  that  I  see  they  cannot  stir  unless  the 
Lord  allows  them  to,  that  I  should  weary  Your  Reverence,  and 
weary  myself  too,  if  I  were  to  talk  about  them  any  further. 

May  what  I  have  said  help  the  true  servant  of  God  to  make 
little  account  of  these  horrors,  which  the  devils  present  us  with  in 
order  to  make  us  afraid.  Let  him  realize  that,  every  time  we  pay 
little  heed  to  them,  they  lose  much  of  their  power  and  the  soul 
gains  much  more  control  over  them.  We  always  derive  some  great 

1  [The  brackets  here  are  mine.  The  sentence  is  an  excellent  example  (and  there 
are  many  others  in  the  Life)  of  St.  Teresa's  inconseqtSent  way  of  writing.  An  idea 
comes  into  her  head  and  at  once  she  writes  it  down,  even  if  (which  is  not  the  case  here) 
doing  so  completely  dislocates  her  sentence.] 


208  LIFE  [CHAP. 

benefit  from  these  experiences,  but  of  this  benefit  I  will  say 
nothing  lest  I  should  write  too  fully.  I  will  only  describe  some- 
thing that  happened  to  me  one  night  of  All  Souls.  I  was  in  an 
oratory:  I  had  said  one  nocturn  and  was  repeating  some  very 
devotional  prayers  which  follow  it — they  are  extremely  devo- 
tional: we  have  them  in  our  office-book — when  actually  the  devil 
himself  alighted  on  the  book,  to  prevent  me  from  finishing  the 
prayer,  I  made  the  sign  of  the  Gross  and  he  went  away.  I  then 
began  again  and  he  caine  back.  I  think  I  began  that  prayer 
three  times  and  not  until  I  had  sprinkled  some  holy  water  on 
him  could  I  finish  it.  At  the  same  moment  I  saw  several  souls 
coming  out  of  purgatory:  their  time  there  must  have  been  nearly 
up  and  I  thought  that  perhaps  the  devil  was  trying  to  impede 
their  deliverance.  I  have  seldom  seen  him  in  bodily  shape,  but 
I  have  often  seen  him  without  any  form,  as  in  the  kind  of  vision 
I  have  described,  in  which  no  form  is  seen  but  the  object  is 
known  to  be  there. 

I  want  also  to  describe  the  following  incident,  which  caused 
me  great  alarm.  One  Trinity  Sunday,  I  was  in  the  choir  of  a 
certain  convent,  and,  while  in  a  rapture,  I  saw  a  great  battle 
between  devils  and  angels.  I  could  not  understand  the  meaning 
of  that  vision,  but  before  a  fortnight  had  passed  it  had  become 
clear  that  it  referred  to  a  conflict  that  had  taken  place  between 
some  persons  who  practised  prayer  and  others  who  did  not,  which 
did  the  house  great  harm.  It  was  a  conflict  which  lasted  a  long 
time  and  caused  a  great  deal  of  commotion.  On  other  occasions 
I  saw  around  me  a  great  multitude  of  devils,  and  yet  I  seemed  to 
be  enveloped  by  a  great  light,  which  prevented  them  from 
coming  nearer.  I  realized  that  God  was  guarding  me  so  that  they 
should  not  come  near  me  and  thus  make  me  offend  Him.  From 
what  I  sometimes  saw  in  myself,  I  knew  the  vision  was  a  genuine 
one.  The  fact  is,  I  realize  so  clearly  now  how  little  power  the 
devils  have,  if  I  am  not  fighting  against  God,  that  I  am  hardly 
afraid  of  them  at  all:  for  their  strength  is  nothing  unless  they  find 
souls  surrendering  to  them  and  growing  cowardly,  in  which 
case  they  do  indeed  show  their  power.  Sometimes,  during  the 
temptations  I  have  already  described,  I  would  feel  as  if  afi  my 
vanities  and  weaknesses  of  times  past  were  re-awakening  in  me, 
and  then  I  certainly  had  to  commend  myself  to  God.  Until 
my  confessor  set  my  fears  at  rest,  I  was  tormented  by  the  idea 
that,  because  these  thoughts  came  into  my  mind,  I  must  be 
wholly  possessed  by  the  devil.  For  it  seemed  to  me  that  not 
even  the  first  impulse  towards  an  evil  thought  ought  to  come  to 
one  on  whom  the  Lord  had  bestowed  so  many  favours.  At  other 
times  I  was  greatly  tormented — and  I  still  am  even  now — by 


XXXI]  LIFE  209 

finding  myself  thought  so  much  of,  especially  by  people  of 
importance,  and  so  much  good  said  of  me.  I  have  suffered  a 
great  deal  from  this,  and  suffer  from  it  still.  At  such  times  I  turn 
straight  to  the  life  of  Christ  and  to  the  lives  of  the  saints  and  realize 
that  I  am  travelling  in  the  opposite  direction  from  that  which  they 
took,  for  they  experienced  nothing  but  contempt  and  insults. 
This  makes  me  proceed  very  fearfully  and  as  one  who  dares  not  lift 
her  head,  for  I  do  not  want  to  seem  to  be  doing  what  I  am  not. 

When  I  am  undergoing  persecutions,  my  body  suffers  and  I  am 
afflicted  in  other  ways,  but  my  soul  is  completely  mistress  of 
itself  to  an  extent  that  I  should  not  have  thought  possible.  But 
that  is  how  it  is :  on  such  occasions  the  soul  seems  to  be  in  its  own 
kingdom  and  to  have  all  things  under  its  feet.  This  happened 
to  me  several  times  and  lasted  for  quite  a  number  of  days:  it 
seemed  to  be  a  kind  of  virtue,  and  humility,  but  I  can  now  see 
quite  well  that  it  was  a  temptation.  A  Dominican  friar,,  who 
was  a  very  learned  man,  gave  me  a  clear  explanation  of  this. 
When  I  thought  that  a  knowledge  of  these  favours  which  the  Lord 
is  granting  me  might  become  public,  my  torture  grew  so  excessive 
that  it  greatly  disturbed  my  soul.  Such  a  pitch  did  it  reach  that, 
when  I  dwelt  on  the  matter,  I  decided  I  would  rather  be  buried 
alive  than  endure  this.  So,  when  these  raptures  or  these  periods 
of  deep  recollection  began,  and  I  could  not  resist  them,  even  in 
public,  I  would  become  so  ashamed  after  they  were  over  as  to 
want  not  to  appear  where  anyone  would  see  me. 

Once,  when  I  was  very  much  troubled  about  this,  the  Lord 
asked  me  what  I  was  afraid  of,  for  only  two  things  could  happen — 
people  would  either  speak  ill  of  me  or  praise  Him.  He  meant  that 
those  who  believed  it  was  His  work  would  praise  Him,  and  those 
who  did  not  would  condemn  me  without  my  having  done  wrong, 
and  that  either  course  would  be  advantageous  to  me  and  therefore 
I  must  not  be  troubled.  This  calmed  me  a  great  deal  and  when- 
ever I  think  of  it  it  still  comforts  me.  The  temptation  reached 
such  a  point  that  I  wanted  to  leave  this  place  and  go  and  take 
my  dowry  to  another  convent,  much  more  strictly  enclosed 
than  the  one  I  was  then  in,  which  I  had  heard  remarkably  well 
spoken  of.  It  belonged  to  my  own  Order  and  was  a  long  way 
away;  it  is  the  distance  that  would  have  given  me  the  greatest 
relief,  for  I  should  have  been  where  nobody  knew  me.1  But  iny 
confessor  never  allowed  me  to  go. 

1  P.  Federico  de  S.  Antonio  (Vita  della  Santa  Madre  Teresa  di  Gcsii,  Bk.  I,  Chap. 
XXII)  thinks  the  Saint  had  contemplated  going  to  a  convent  in  Flanders  or  Brittany. 
The  Parisian  Carmelites  (Qcuores  de  Sainte  TTtfrtse,  Vol.  I,  p.  409)  suggest  that  she  had 
in  mind  a  convent  established  near  Nantes,  in  1477,  by  B.  Francoise  d*Amboise.  But 
there  seems  no  reason  to  assume  that  she  ever  thought  of  going  to  a  house  outside 
Spain* 


2io  LIFE  [CHAP. 

These  fears  robbed  me  of  much  freedom  of  spirit;  later  I  came 
to  see  that  all  this  restlessness  on  my  part  was  not  real  humility. 
And  the  Lord  revealed  this  truth  to  me:  that  if  I  believed  reso- 
lutely and  with  conviction  that  anything  good  in  me  was  not  mine 
at  all  but  came  from  God,  then,  just  as  I  was  not  troubled  at 
hearing  other  people  praised  but  rather  rejoiced  and  took  com- 
fort at  seeing  that  God  was  showing  His  power  in  them,  so,  too, 
I  should  not  be  troubled  if  He  were  to  show  His  works  in  me. 

I  also  fell  victim  to  another  excess  of  zeal,  which  was  to  beseech 
God,  and  to  make  it  my  special  prayer,  that  when  a  person 
thought  there  was  any  good  in  me,  His  Majesty  would  reveal  my 
sins  to  him,  so  that  he  might  see  how  utterly  undeserving  I  was 
of  these  favours — which  is  always  my  great  desire.  My  confessor 
told  me  not  to  do  this;  but  I  continued  to  do  it  almost  down  to 
this  day.  If  I  observed  that  someone  was  thinking  very  well  of  me, 
I  would  manage,  indirectly  or  in  any  way  that  I  could,  to  make 
him  aware  of  my  sins.  That  seemed  to  bring  me  relief.  My  sins 
have  made  me  very  scrupulous  about  this. 

This,  however,  I  think,  was  not  the  result  of  humility,  but  often 
proceeded  from  a  temptation.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was 
deceiving  everybody;  and,  though  it  is  true  that  it  was  their  own 
belief  that  there  was  some  good  in  me  which  was  deceiving  them, 
I  had  no  desire  to  deceive  them,  nor  did  I  ever  try  to  do  so: 
for  some  reason  the  Lord  permitted  it.  So,  unless  I  saw  that  such 
a  course  was  necessary,  I  said  nothing  about  these  things  even 
to  my  confessors,  for  to  do  so  would  have  caused  me  grave 
scruples.  I  realize  now  that  all  these  little  fears  and  troubles 
and  this  apparent  humility  were  sheer  imperfection,  due  to 
my  lack  of  mortification.  For  a  soul  left  in  the  hands  of  God 
cares  nothing  whether  good  or  evil  is  spoken  of  it  if  it  has  a  right 
understanding.  And,  when. the  Lord  is  pleased  to  grant  it  the 
grace  of  understanding,  it  must  understand  clearly  that  it  has 
nothing  of  its  own.  Let  it  trust  its  Giver  and  it  will  learn  why 
He  reveals  His  gifts,  and  let  it  prepare  itself  for  persecution, 
which  at  a  time  like  the  present  is  sure  to  come  to  a  person 
when  the  Lord  is  pleased  for  it  to  be  known  that  He  is  granting 
him  such  favours  as  these.  For  upon  a  soul  like  this  are  fixed  a 
thousand  eyes,  whereas  upon  a  thousand  souls  of  baser  texture 
there  will  not  be  fixed  a  single  one. 

In  truth,  there  is  no  small  reason  here  for  being  afraid,  and 
I  certainly  ought  to  have  been  so — I  was  being,  not  humble,  but 
pusillanimous.  For  a  soul  which  God  allows  to  walk  in  this  way  in 
the  sight  of  the  whole  world  may  well  prepare  itself  to  be  martyred 
by  the  world,  for,  if  it  will  not  die  to  the  world  of  its  own  free  will, 
the  world  itself  will  kill  it.  Really,  I  can  see  nothing  in  the  world 


XXXI]  LIFE  211 

that  seems  to  me  good  save  its  refusal  to  allow  that  good  people 
can  ever  do  wrong  and  the  way  it  perfects  them  by  speaking  ill 
of  them.  I  mean  that  more  courage  is  necessary  for  following 
the  way  of  perfection,  if  one  is  not  perfect,  than  for  suddenly 
becoming  a  martyr;  for  perfection  cannot  be  acquired  quickly, 
except  by  one  to  whom  by  some  particular  privilege  the  Lord 
is  pleased  to  grant  this  favour.  When  the  world  sees  anyone  setting 
out  on  that  road  it  expects  him  to  be  perfect  all  at  once  and  detects 
a  fault  in  him  from  a  thousand  leagues'  distance;  yet  in  that 
particular  person  the  fault  may  be  a  virtue,  and  his  critic,  in 
whom  it  is  a  vice,  may  be  judging  him  by  himself.  They  will  not 
allow  him  to  eat  or  sleep — they  will  hardly  let  him  breathe,  as 
we  say:  the  more  highly  they  think  of  him,  the  more  they  seem  to 
forget  that  he  is  still  in  the  body.  For,  however  perfect  his  soul 
may  be,  he  is  still  living  on  earth,  and  however  resolutely  he  may 
trample  earth's  miserable  limitations  beneath  his  feet,  he  is  still 
subject  to  them.  And  so,  as  I  say,  he  needs  great  courage.  His 
poor  soul  has  not  yet  begun  to  walk,  and  men  expect  it  to  fly. 
He  has  not  yet  conquered  his  passions,  and  men  expect  him  to 
rise  to.  great  occasions  and  be  as  brave  as  they  read  the  saints 
were  after  they  had  been  confirmed  in  grace.  What  happens 
here  gives  us  cause  for  praising  the  Lord  and  also  for  great 
sorrow  of  heart,  since  so  many  poor  souls  turn  back  because 
they  have  no  idea  what  to  do  to  help  themselves*  And  I  believe 
my  soul  would  have  been  like  them  had  not  the  Lord  Himself 
had  such  compassion  on  me  and  done  everything  for  me.  Until 
He  of  His  goodness  had  done  everything,  I  myself  did  nothing, 
as  Your  Reverence  will  know,  but  fall  and  rise  again. 

I  wish  I  knew  how  to  express  this,  for  many  souls,  I  believe, 
go  wrong  here  and  want  to  fly  before  God  gives  them  wings.  I 
think  I  have  made  this  comparison  somewhere  before,  but  it 
is  very  much  to  the  point,  so  I  will  attempt  it  again,  for  I  find 
that  some  souls  are  very  much  distressed  by  this.  They  begin 
with  good  desires,  and  fervour,  and  determination  to  advance  in 
virtue,  and  some  of  them  give  up  all  external  things  for  God. 
Then  they  see  in  others  who  are  more  fully  grown  in  grace  many 
notable  fruits,  in  the  shape  of  virtues  given  them  by  the  Lord — 
for  we  cannot  acquire  these  ourselves.  They  see  in  all  the  books 
written  on  prayer  and  contemplation  a  description  of  things 
which  we  must  do  in  order  to  rise  to  that  dignity.  And,  as  they 
themselves  cannot  manage  to  do  all  these  things,  they  lose 
courage.  I  refer  to  such  things  as  not  caring  if  people  speak  ill 
of  us,  but  being  more  pleased  than  when  they  speak  well;  holding 
our  own  reputation  in  little  esteem;  cultivating  detachment 
from  our  kindred,  and,  unless  they  be  persons  of  prayer,  not 


212  LIFE  [CHAI 


desiring  converse  with  them  but  finding  it  wearisome;  and 
other  things  of  that  kind.  These,  I  think,  must  be  bestowed  upoi 
us  by  God,  for  they  seem  to  me  to  be  supernatural  blessings 
contradicting  our  natural  inclinations.  They  must  not  tw 
troubled,  but  hope  in  the  Lord;  for  what  they  now  are  in  desin 
His  Majesty  will,  if  they  pray  and  do  what  they  can  for  themselves 
make  them  to  be  in  very  deed.  It  is  most  necessary  that  thi 
weak  nature  of  ours  should  have  great  confidence,  and  not  be 
dismayed  or  think  that,  if  we  do  our  utmost,  we  can  fail  to  come 
out  victorious. 

As  I  have  a  great  deal  of  experience  here,  I  will  say  something 
to  Your  Reverence  by  way  of  counsel.  Do  not  think,  even  though 
it  may  seem  so  to  you,  that  anyone  has  acquired  a  virtue  when  he 
has  not  tested  it  by  its  corresponding  vice.  We  must  always 
guard  our  misgivings,  and  never,  all  our  lives  long,  grow  careless, 
for  much  of  the  world  will  cling  to  us,  if,  as  I  say,  God  has  not 
given  us  the  grace  fully  to  understand  the  nature  of  everything; 
and  there  is  never  anything  in  this  life  which  is  not  attended  by 
many  dangers.  A  few  years  ago,  I  believed,  not  merely  that  I  was 
not  attached  to  my  relatives,  but  that  they  were  wearisome  to  me, 
and  this  was  certainly  true,  for  I  could  not  endure  their  conver- 
sation. Then  a  matter  of  great  importance  cropped  up  and  I 
had  to  go  and  stay  with  a  sister  of  mine  of  whom,  in  the  past, 
I  had  been  extremely  fond.1  Though  she  is  a  better  woman 
than  I  am,  I  could  not  get  on  with  her  at  all  in  conversation; 
for  as  she  is  married,  and  therefore  lives  a  different  kind  of  life, 
we  could  not  always  be  talking  of  the  things  I  should  have  liked, 
and  all  I  could  do  was  to  try  to  be  alone.  But  I  found  that  when 
she  was  distressed  it  affected  me  much  more  than  when  my 
neighbours  were;  sometimes,  in  fact,  I  would  be  quite  concerned 
about  her.  In  short,  I  discovered  that  I  was  not  as  free  from 
attachment  as  I  had  supposed  and  indeed  that  I  needed  to  avoid 
occasions  of  sin,  so  that  this  virtue,  which  the  Lord  had  begun  to 
implant  in  me,  might  grow;  and  with  His  help  I  have  done  my 
utmost  to  cultivate  it  ever  since. 

When  the  Lord  begins  to  implant  a  virtue  in  us,  it  must  be 
esteemed  very  highly  and  we  must  on  no  account  run  the  risk  of 
losing  it.  So  it  is  in  matters  concerning  our  reputation2  and  in 

1  This  reference  is  probably  to  a  stay  which  St.  Teresa  made  with  her  younger 
sister,  Juana>  and  her  husband,  Don  Juan  de  Ovalle.  From  letters  which  the  Saint 
wrote  to  her  brother,  Don  Lorenzo,  it  is  clear  that  lack  of  means,  together  with  Don 
Juan's  difficult  temperament,  made  Dona  Juana's  married  life  anything  but  a  smooth 
one.  The  two  came  from  Alba  to  Avila,  for  reasons  connected  with  the  foundation 
of  St.  Joseph's,  in  August  1  561  . 

1  [Htmra;  and  so  throughout  this  and  the  following  paragraphs.  Cf.  p.  14,  n.  %9 
above.] 


XXXI]  LIFE 

many  others.  Your  Reverence  can  be  quite  sure  that  we  are  not  all 
completely  detached  when  we  think  we  are  and  it  is  essential 
that  we  should  never  be  careless  about  this*  If  any  person  wishing 
to  make  progress  in  spiritual  matters  finds  that  he  is  becoming 
punctilious  about  his  reputation,  let  him  believe  what  I  say  and 
put  this  attachment  right  behind  him,  for  it  is  a  chain  which  no 
file  can  sever:  only  God  can  break  it,  with  the  aid  of  prayer  and 
great  effort  on  our  part.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  an  impediment  on 
this  road  and  I  am  amazed  at  the  harm  it  does.  I  see  some  people 
whose  actions  are  very  holy  and  who  do  such  wonderful  things 
that  everyone  is  astonished  at  them*  God  bless  me,  then!  Why 
are  such  souls  still  on  earth?  How  is  it  that  they  have  not  reached 
the  summit  of  perfection?  What  is  the  reason  for  this?  What 
can  it  be  that  is  impeding  one  who  is  doing  so  much  for  God? 
Why,  simply  his  punctiliousness  about  his  reputation!  And  the 
worst  of  it  is  that  this  sort  of  person  will  not  realize  that  he  is 
guilty  of  such  a  thing,  the  reason  sometimes  being  that  the  devil 
tells  him  that  punctiliousness  is  incumbent  upon  him. 

Let  such  persons  believe  me,  then :  for  the  love  of  the  Lord 
let  them  believe  this  little  ant,  for  she  speaks  becaifee  it  is  the 
Lord's  will  that  she  should  do  so.  If  they  fail  to  remove  this 
caterpillar,  it  may  not  hurt  the  whole  tree,  for  some  of  the  other 
virtues  will  remain,  but  they  will  all  be  worm-eaten.  The  tree 
will  not  be  beautiful:  it  will  neither  prosper  itself  nor  allow 
the  trees  near  it  to  do  so,  for  the  fruit  of  good  example  which  it 
bears  is  not  at  all  healthy  and  will  not  last  for  long.  I  repeat 
this:  however  slight  may  be  our  concern  for  our  reputation, 
the  result  of  it  will  be  as  bad  as  when  we  play  a  wrong  note, 
or  make  a  mistake  in  time,  in  playing  the  organ — the  whole 
passage  will  become  discordant.  Such  concern  is  a  thing  which 
harms  the  soul  whenever  it  occurs;  but  in  the  life  of  prayer  it  is 
pestilential. 

You  are  trying  to  attain  to  union  with  God.  We  want  to 
follow  the  counsels  of  Christ,  on  Whom  were  showered  insults 
and  false  witness.  Are  we,  then,  really  so  anxious  to  keep  intact 
our  own  reputation  and  credit?  We  cannot  do  so  and  yet  attain 
to  union,  for  the  two  ways  diverge.  When  we  exert  our  utmost 
-efforts  and  try  in  various  ways  to  forgo  our  rights,  the  Lord  comes 
to  the  soul.  Some  will  say:  "I  have  nothing  to  forgo:  I  never  get 
an  opportunity  of  giving  up  anything."  But  if  anyone  has  this 
determination  I  do  not  believe  the  Lord  will  ever  allow  him  to 
lose  so  great  a  blessing.  His  Majesty  will  arrange  so  many  ways 
in  which  he  may  gain  this  virtue  that  he  will  soon  have  more 
than  he  wants.  I  would  urge  you,  then,  to  set  to  work  and  root 
out  things  which  are  of  little  or  no  consequence,  just  as  I  used  to 


214  LIFE  [CHAP. 

do  when  I  began — or,  at  least,  some  of  them.  They  are  mere 
straws;  and,  as  I  have  said,  I  throw  them  on  the  fire.  I  am  in- 
capable of  doing  more  than  that,  but  the  Lord  accepts  it :  may 
He  be  blessed  for  ever. 

One  of  my  faults  was  this:  I  knew  very  little  of  my  office-book, 
and  of  what  I  ought  to  do  in  choir,  and  of  how  to  behave,  simply 
because  I  was  careless  and  absorbed  in  other  vanities.  I  saw  other 
novices  who  could  have  taught  me  these  things,  but  I  did  not  ask 
them  to  do  so,  lest  they  should  become  aware  how  little  I  knew. 
But  good  example  soon  prevails:  that,  at  least,  is  the  general 
rule.  Once  God  opened  my  eyes  a  little,  I  would  ask  the  other 
girls'  opinion1  even  when  I  knew  something  but  was  the  slightest 
bit  in  doubt  about  it;  and  my  doing  so  damaged  neither  my 
honour2  nor  my  credit — in  fact  I  think  the  Lord  has  been  pleased 
since  then  to  give  me  a  better  memory.  I  was  bad  at  singing 
and  I  felt  it  very  deeply  if  I  had  not  studied  what  was  entrusted 
to  me:  not  for  my  shortcomings  in  the  Lord's  eyes — that  would 
have  been  virtue — but  because  of  all  the  nuns  who  were  listening 
to  me.  Merely  out  of  concern  for  my  own  honour  I  was  so  much 
perturbed  fliat  I  did  much  worse  than  I  need  have  done.  Later, 
when  I  did  not  know  my  part  very  well,  I  made  a  point  of  saying 
so.  At  first,  this  hurt  me  terribly  but  after  a  time  I  began  to  take 
pleasure  in  it.  And  when  I  ceased  caring  if  my  ignorance  were 
known  or  not,  I  got  on  much  better.  So  this  miserable  concern 
for  my  honour  prevented  me  from  being  able  to  do  what  I  really 
regarded  as  an  honour,  for  everyone  interprets  the  word  'honour* 
to  mean  what  he  chooses. 

By  means  of  these  nothings,  which  after  all  actually  are  nothing 
(and  I,  too,  am  certainly  nothing,  to  be  hurt  by  a  thing  like  this), 
one's  actions  gradually  become  worthier.  And  if  we  take  trouble 
over  such  trifling  things,  to  which  God  attaches  importance 
because  they  are  done  for  Him,  His  Majesty  helps  us  to  do  greater 
ones.  And  so  it  was  with  me  in  matters  concerning  humility; 
seeing  that  all  the  nuns  except  myself  were  making  progress  (for  I 
mysefr  was  always  a  good-for-nothing)  I  would  collect  their 
mantles  when  they  left  the  choir.  I  felt  that  by  doing  this  I  was 
serving  angels  who  were  praising  God  there,  until — I  do  not 
know  how — they  came  to  hear  of  it,  which  made  me  not  a  little 
ashamed.  For  my  virtue  had  not  reached  the  point  of  desiring 
them  to  know  of  these  things — not  out  of  humility,  but  lest  they 
should  laugh  at  me  over  something  so  unimportant* 

1  ["Girls',"  may  seem  an  unduly  colloquial  word,  but  the  Spanish  is  even  more 
unexpected:  idnas,  "young  girls'*,  "children".] 

*[C£  p.  14,  n.  2,  above.  "Reputation"  would  be  a  better  word  here,  but  the 
wordplay  in  the  last  sentence  of  the  paragraph  requires  **  honour'*.] 


XXXI]  LIFE  215 

O  my  Lord,  how  ashamed  I  am  at  having  to  confess  all  this 
wickedness !  I  go  on  counting  these  little  grains  of  sand,  which 
as  yet  were  not  being  stirred  up  in  the  river-bed  for  Thy  sendee, 
but  were  embedded  in  all  kinds  of  filth.1  The  water  of  Thy 
grace  was  not  yet  flowing  beneath  all  this  sand  to  stir  it  up. 

0  my  Creator,  if  only  amid  so  many  things  that  are  evil  I  had 
a  few  that  were  worthy  of  enumeration,  to  set  beside  the  great 
favours  that  I  have  received  from  Thee !  But  thus  it  is,  my  Lord, 
and  I  know  not  how  my  heart  can  bear  it  or  how  anyone  who 
reads  this  can  fail  to  abhor  me  when  he  sees  how  ill  I  have 
requited  such  exceeding  great  favours  and  that  despite  all  this 

1  am  not  ashamed  to  reckon  any  services  that  I  may  have  rendered 
Thee  as  my  own.   In  reality,  my  Lord,  I  am  ashamed  to  do  so, 
but  the  fact  that  I  have  nothing  else  of  my  own  to  enumerate 
makes  me  speak  of  such  mean  beginnings  so  that  those  who 
began  better  may  be  hopeful  that,  as  the  Lord  has  taken  notice 
of  these.  He  will  take  notice  of  theirs  still  more.   May  it  please 
His  Majesty  to  give  me  grace  so  that  I  may  not  always  remain 
a  beginner.   Amen. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

Tells  how  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  carry  her  in  spirit  to  a  place  in  hell 
which  she  had  merited  for  her  sins.  Describes  a  part  of  what  was 
shown  her  there.  Begins  to  tell  of  the  way  and  means  whereby 
the  convent  of  Saint  Joseph  was  founded  in  the  place  where  it  now 
is. 

A  long  time  after  the  Lord  had  granted  me  many  of  the 
favours  which  I  have  described,  together  with  other  very  great 
ones,  I  was  at  prayer  one  day  when  suddenly,  without  knowing 
how,  I  found  myself,  as  I  thought,  plunged  right  into  hell.  I  real- 
ized that  it  was  the  Lord's  will  that  I  should  see  the  place  which 
the  devils  had  prepared  for  me  there  and  which  I  had  merited 
for  my  sins.  This  happened  in  the  briefest  space  of  time,  but, 
even  if  I  were  to  live  for  many  years,  I  believe  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  forget  it.  The  entrance,  I  thought,  resembled 
a  very  long,  narrow  passage,  like  a  furnace,  very  low,  dark  and 
closely  confined;  the  ground  seemed  to  be  full  of  water  which 
looked  like  filthy,  evil-smelling  mud,  and  in  it  were  many 
wicked-looking  reptiles.  At  the  end  there  was  a  hollow  place 
scooped  out  of  a  wall,  like  a  cupboard,  and  it  was  here  that 

1  [This  is  evidently  a  reminiscent  reference  to  pp.  202-3,  above.  The  application  of 
the  figure,  however,  it  will  be  seen,  is  slightly  different.] 


216  LIFE  [CHAP, 

I  found  myself  in  close  confinement.  But  the  sight  of  all  this 
was  pleasant  by  comparison  with  what  I  felt  there.  What  I 
have  said  is  in  no  way  an  exaggeration. 

My  feelings,  I  think,  could  not  possibly  be  exaggerated,  nor 
can  anyone  understand  them.  I  felt  a  fire  within  my  soul  the 
nature  of  which  I  am  utterly  incapable  of  describing.  My  bodily 
sufferings  were  so  intolerable  that,  though  in  my  life  I  have 
endured  the  severest  sufferings  of  this  kind — the  worst  it  is  pos- 
sible to  endure,  the  doctors  say,  such  as  the  shrinking  of  the 
nerves  during  my  paralysis1  and  many  and  divers  more,  some 
of  them,  as  I  have  said,  caused  by  the  devil — none  of  them  is 
of  the  smallest  account  by  comparison  with  what  I  felt  then, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  knowledge  that  they  would  be  endless  and 
never-ceasing.  And  even  these  are  nothing  by  comparison  with 
the  agony  of  my  soul,t  an  oppression,  a  suffocation  and  an  afflic- 
tion so  deeply  felt,  and  accompanied  by  such  hopeless  and  dis- 
tressing misery,  that  I  cannot  too  forcibly  describe  it.  To  say 
that  it  is  as  if  the  soul  were  continually  being  torn  from  the  body  is 
very  little,  for  that  would  mean  that  one's  life  was  being  taken  by 
another;  whereas  in  this  case  it  is  the  soul  itself  that  is  tearing 
itself  to  pieces.  The  fact  is  that  I  cannot  find  words  to  describe 
that  interior  fire  and  that  despair,  which  is  greater  than  the 
most  grievous  tortures  and  pains.  I  could  not  see  who  was  the 
cause  of  them,  but  I  felt,  I  think,  as  if  I  were  being  both  burned 
and  dismembered;  and  I  repeat  that  that  interior  fire  and  despair 
are  the  worst  things  of  all. 

In  that  pestilential  spot,  where  I  was  quite  powerless  to  hope 
for  comfort,  it  was  impossible  to  sit  or  lie,  for  there  was  no  room 
to  do  so.  I  had  been  put  in  this  place  which  looked  like  a  hole 
in  the  wall,  and  those  very  walls,  so  terrible  to  the  sight,  bore 
down  upon  me  and  completely  stifled  me.  There  was  no  light 
and  everything  was  in  the  blackest  darkness.  I  do  not  under- 
stand how  this  can  be,  but,  although  there  was  no  light,  it  was 
possible  to  see  everything  the  sight  of  which  can  cause  afflic- 
tion. At  that  time  it  was  not  the  Lord's  will  that  I  should  see 
more  of  hell  itself,  but  I  have  since  seen  another  vision  of  frightful 
things,  which  are  the  punishment  of  certain  vices.  To  look  at, 
they  seemed  to  me  much  more  dreadful;  but,  as  I  felt  no  pain, 
they  caused  me  less  fear.  In  the  earlier  vision  the  Lord  was 
pleased  that  I  should  really  feel  those  torments  and  that  afflic- 
tion of  spirit,  just  as  if  my  body  had  been  suffering  them.  I  do 
not  know  how  it  was,  but  I  realized  quite  clearly  that  it  was  a 
great  favour  and  that  it  was  the  Lord's  will  that  I  should  see 
.with  my  own  eyes  the  place  from  which  His  mercy  had  delivered 

1  [See  p.  30,  above.] 


XXXII]  LIFE  217 

me.  It  is  nothing  to  read  a  description  of  it,  or  to  think  of  different 
kinds  of  torture  (as  I  have  sometimes  done,  though  rarely,  as 
my  soul  made  little  progress  by  the  road  of  fear) :  of  how  the 
devils  tear  the  flesh  with  their  pincers  or  of  the  various  other 
tortures  that  I  have  read  about — none  of  these  are  anything  by 
comparison  with  this  affliction,  which  is  quite  another  matter. 
In  fact,  it  is  like  a  picture  set  against  reality,  and  any  burning 
on  earth  is  a  small  matter  compared  with  that  fire. 

I  was  terrified  by  all  this,  and,  though  it  happened  nearly  six 
years  ago,  I  still  am  as  I  write:  even  as  I  sit  here,  fear  seems 
to  be  depriving  my  body  of  its  natural  warmth.  I  never  recall 
any  time  when  I  have  been  suffering  trials  or  pains  and  when 
everything  that  we  can  suffer  on  earth  has  seemed  to  me  of  the 
slightest  importance  by  comparison  with  this;  so,  in  a  way,  I 
think  we  complain  without  reason.  I  repeat,  then,  that  this 
vision  was  one  of  the  most  signal  favours  which  the  Lord  has 
bestowed  upon  me:  it  has  been  of  the  greatest  benefit  to  me, 
both  in  taking  from  me  all  fear  of  the  tribulations  and  dis- 
appointments of  this  life  and  also  in  strengthening  me  to  suffer 
them  and  to  give  thanks  to  the  Lord,  Who,  as  I  now  believe, 
has  delivered  me  from  such  terrible  and  never-ending  torments* 

Since  that  time,  as  I  say,  everything  has  seemed  light  to  me 
by  comparison  with  a  single  moment  of  such  suffering  as  I  had 
to  bear  during  that  vision.  I  am  shocked  at  myself  when  I 
think  that,  after  having  so  often  read  books  which  give  some 
idea  of  the  pains  of  hell,  I  was  neither  afraid  of  them  nor  rated 
them  at  what  they  are*  What  could  I  have  been  thinking  of? 
How  could  anything  give  me  satisfaction  which  was  driving  me 
to  so  awful  a  place?  Blessed  be  Thou,  my  God,  for  ever!  How 
plain  it  has  become  that  Thou  didst  love  me,  much  more  than 
I  love  myself!  How  often,  Lord,  didst  Thou  deliver  me  from 
that  gloomy  prison  and  how  I  would  make  straight  for  it  again, 
in  face  of  Thy  will! 

This  vision,  too,  was  the  cause  of  the  very  deep  distress  which 
I  experibnce  because  of  the  great  number  of  souls  who  are 
bringing  damnation  upon  themselves — especially  of  those 
Lutherans,  for  they  were  made  members  of  the  Church  through 
baptism.  It  also  inspired  me  with  fervent  impulses  for  the  good 
of  souls :  for  I  really  believe  that,  to  deliver  a  single  one  of  them 
from  such  dreadful  tortures,  I  would  willingly  die  many  deaths. 
After  all,  if  we  see  anyone  on  earth  who  is  especially  dear  to 
us  suffering  great  trial  or  pain,  our  very  nature  seems  to  move 
us  to  compassion,  and  if  his  sufferings  are  severe  they  oppress 
us  too.  Who,  then,  could  bear  to  look  upon  a  soul's  endless 
sufferings  in  that  most  terrible  trial  of  all?  No  heart  could 


2i8  LIFE  [CHAP 

possibly  endure  it  without  great  affliction.  For  even  earthlj 
suffering,  which  after  all,  as  we  know,  has  a  limit  and  will  end 
with  death,  moves  us  to  deep  compassion.  And  that  othei 
suffering  has  no  limit:  I  do  not  know  how  we  can  look  on  sc 
calmly  and  see  the  devil  carrying  off  as  many  souls  as  he  does 
daily. 

This  also  makes  me  wish  that  in  so  urgent  a  matter  we  were 
not  ourselves  satisfied  with  anything  short  of  doing  all  that  we 
can.  Let  us  leave  nothing  undone;  and  to  this  end  may  the 
Lord  be  pleased  to  grant  us  His  grace.  I  recall  that,  wicked 
creature  though  I  was,  I  used  to  take  some  trouble  to  serve 
God  and  refrain  from  doing  certain  things  which  I  see  tolerated 
and  considered  quite  legitimate  in  the  world;  that  I  had  serious 
illnesses,  and  bore  them  with  great  patience,  which  the  Lord 
bestowed  on  me;  that  I  was  not  given  to  murmuring  or  speaking 
ill  of  anyone,  nor,  I  think,  could  I  ever  have  wished  anyone 
ill;  that  I  was  not  covetous  and  never  remember  having  been 
envious  in  such  a  way  as  grievously  to  offend  the  Lord;  and 
that  I  abstained  from  certain  other  faults,  and,  despicable 
though  I  was,  lived  in  the  most  constant  fear  of  God.  And  yet 
look  at  the  place  where  the  devils  had  prepared  a  lodging  for 
me !  It  is  true,  I  think,  that  my  faults  had  merited  a  much  heavier 
punishment;  but  none  the  less,  I  repeat,  the  torture  was  terrible, 
and  it  is  a  perilous  thing  for  a  soul  to  indulge  in  its  own  pleasure 
or  to  be  placid  and  contented  when  at  every  step  it  is  falling 
into  mortal  sin.  For  the  love  of  God,  let  us  keep  free  from  occa- 
sions of  sin  and  the  Lord  will  help  us  as  He  has  helped  me. 
May  it  please  His  Majesty  not  to  let  me  out  of  His  hand  lest 
I  fall  once  more,  now  that  I  have  seen  the  place  to  which  that 
would  lead  me.  May  the  Lord  forbid  this,  for  His  Majesty's 
sake.  Amen. 

After  I  had  seen  this  vision,  and  other  great  things  and  secrets 
which,  being  what  He  is,  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  show  me, 
concerning  the  bliss  reserved  for  the  good  and  the  affliction  for 
the  wicked,  I  desired  to  find  some  way  and  means  of  doing 
penance  for  all  my  evil  deeds  and  of  becoming  in  some  degree 
worthy  to  gain  so  great  a  blessing.  I  desired,  therefore,  to  flee 
from  others  and  to  end  by  withdrawing  myself  completely  from 
the  world.  My  spirit  was  restless,  yet  the  restlessness  was  not 
disturbing  but  pleasant:  I  knew  quite  well  that  it  was  of  God 
and  that  His  Majesty  had  given  my  soul  this  ardour  to  enable 
me  to  digest  other  and  stronger  meat  than  I  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  eating. 

I  would  wonder  what  I  could  do  for  God,  and  it  occurred  to 
me  that  the  first  thing  was  to  follow  the  vocation  for  a  religious 


XXXII]  LIFE  219 

life  which  His  Majesty  had  given  me  by  keeping  my  Rule  with 
the  greatest  possible  perfection.  And  although  in  the  house 
where  I  was  living1  there  were  many  servants  of  God,  and  He 
was  well  served  in  it,  yet,  as  it  was  very  needy,  we  nuns  would 
often  leave  it  for  other  places  where  we  could  live  honourably 
and  keep  our  vows.  Furthermore,  the  Rule  was  not  observed 
in  its  primitive  rigour  but,  as  throughout  the  Order,  according  to 
the  Bull  of  Mitigation.2  There  were  also  other  disadvantages, 
such  as  the  excessive  amount  of  comfort  which  I  thought  we 
had,  for  the  house  was  a  large  and  pleasant  one.  But  this  habit 
of  frequently  going  away  (and  I  was  one  who  did  it  a  great 
deal)  was  a  serious  drawback  to  me,  for  there  were  certain 
persons,  to  whom  my  superiors  could  refuse  nothing,  who  liked 
to  have  me  with  them,  and  so,  when  importuned  by  these 
persons,  they  would  order  me  to  go  and  visit  them.  So  things 
went  on  until  I  was  able  to  be  in  the  convent  very  little;  the 
devil  must  have  had  something  to  do  with  my  being  away  so 
much,  though  at  the  same  time  I  was  in  the  habit  of  repeating 
to  some  of  the  nuns  the  things  taught  me  by  the  people  I  met 
and  these  did  them  a  great  deal  of  good. 

One  day  it  happened  that  a  person  to  whom  I  was  talking,5 
with  some  other  sisters,  asked  me  why  we  should  not  become 
Discalced  nuns,4  for  it  would  be  quite  possible  to  find  a  way 
of  establishing  a  convent.  I  had  had  desires  of  this  kind  myself, 
so  I  began  to  discuss  the  matter  with  a  companion — that  widowed 
lady  who,  as  I  have  said  before,  had  the  same  desire.  She  began 
to  think  out  a  way  to  find  the  money  for  such  a  house;  I  see 
now  that  that  would  not  have  got  us  very  far,  though  our  desire 
to  achieve  our  object  made  us  think  that  it  would.  But,  for 
my  own  part,  I  was  most  happy  in  the  house  where  I  was,  for 
I  was  very  fond  both  of  the  house  and  of  my  cell,  and  this  held 
me  back.  None  the  less,  we  agreed  to  commend  the  matter 
very  earnestly  to  God. 

One  day,  after  Communion,  the  Lord  gave  me  the  most 
explicit  commands  to  work  for  this  aim  with  all  my  might  and 
made  me  wonderful  promises — that  the  convent  would  not  fail 

1  The  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila. 

*  A  Bull  published  by  Pope  Eugenius  IV  on  February  15,  1432. 

8  Maria  de  Ocampo,  daughter  of  Don  Diego  de  Cepeda  and  Dona  Beatriz  de  la 
Cruz  y  OcampOj  who  were  St.  Teresa's  cousins.  She  herself  took  the  Discalced  habit 
at  Avila  in  1563. 

4  Another  account  of  this  conversation  [cit.  P.  Silverio,  I,  268,  n.]  says  that  it 
arose  out  of  a  discussion  on  the  hermit-saints.  Some  of  the  nuns  suggested  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  small  convent  in  which  a  few  of  them  could  lead  a  more  penitential  life. 
St.  Teresa  then  said  they  ought  to  restore  the  primitive  Rule  and  one  nun  offered 
her  financial  help  if  she  would  found  a  convent  of  the  kind  described.  At  this  point, 
Dona  Guiomar  de  Ulloa  (the  "widowed  lady"  of  the  text)  arrived,  and,  on  being 
told  of  the  conversation,  said  that  she  too  would  help  in  the  good  work. 


220  LIFE  [CHAP. 

to  be  established;  that  great  service  would  be  done  to  Him  in 
it;  that  it  should  be  called  Saint  Joseph's ;  that  He1  would  watch 
over  us  at  one  door  and  Our  Lady  at  the  other;  that  Christ 
would  go  with  us;  that  the  convent  would  be  a  star  giving 
out  the  most  brilliant  light;  and  that,  although  the  Rules  of 
the  religious  Orders  were  mitigated,  I  was  not  to  think  He  was 
very  little  served  in  them,  for  what  would  become  of  the  world 
if  it  were  not  for  religious?  I  was  to  tell  my  confessor  this2 
and  to  say  that  it  was  He  Who  was  giving  me  this  command  and 
that  He  asked  him  not  to  oppose  it  nor  to  hinder  me  in  carrying 
it  out. 

So  great  was  the  effect  upon  me  of  this  vision  and  such  was 
the  nature  of  these  words  which  the  Lord  addressed  to  me 
that  I  could  not  doubt  that  it  was  He  Who  had  uttered  them. 
This  caused  me  the  deepest  distress,  because  I  had  a  fairly  good 
idea  of  the  serious  disturbances  and  trials  which  the  work  would 
cost  me.  I  was  very  happy,  too,  in  that  house,  and,  though  in 
the  past  I  had  been  accustomed  to  speak  of  such  a  foundation, 
it  had  not  been  with  any  great  degree  of  determination  or  cer- 
tainty that  the  thing  would  be  done.  I  felt  now  that  a  great 
burden  was  being  laid  upon  me,  and,  when  I  saw  that  I  was 
at  the  beginning  of  a  very  disturbing  time,  I  became  doubtful 
what  I  should  do.  But  the  Lord  appeared  and  spoke  to  me 
about  it  again  and  again,  and  so  numerous  were  the  motives 
and  arguments  which  He  put  before  me,  in  such  a  way  that  I 
saw  that  they  were  valid  and  that  the  project  was  His  will,  that 
I  dared  not  do  otherwise  than  speak  to  my  confessor  about  it 
and  give  him  a  written  account  of  everything  that  took  place. 

He  did  not  venture  to  tell  me  expressly  to  give  up  the  idea, 
but  he  saw  that,  humanly  speaking,  there  was  no  way  of  putting 
it  into  practice,  since  my  companion,  who  was  to  be  the  person 
to  effect  this,  had  no  resources  at  all,  or  very  scanty  ones.  He 
told  me  to  talk  it  over  with  my  Superior,  and  to  do  what  he 
advised.  I  did  not  discuss  these  visions  with  the  Superior,  but 
the  lady  who  was  desirous  of  founding  this  convent  had  a  talk 
with  him,  and  the  Provincial,3  who  is  well-disposed  to  the  religious 
Orders,  took  to  the  idea  very  well,  gave  her  all  necessary  help 
and  told  her  he  would  give  the  house  has  sanction.  They  discussed 
the  revenue  which  the  convent  would  need,  and  we  decided 

a[I  translate  "He"  in  deference  to  P.  Silverio's  capitalization  of  the  pronoun, 
but  a  likelier  reading  seems  to  me  "he"  (St.  Joseph).  Sixteenth-century  manuscripts 
do  not  capitalize  pronouns  which  refer  to  God,  so  the  matter  must  remain  one  for 
conjecture,] 

*  P.  Baltasar  Alvarez. 

3  This  was  not,  as  is  often  said,  P.  Angel  de  Salazar,  but  P.  Gregorio  Fernandez, 
who  was  Provincial  from  1551  to  1553  and  again  from  1559  to  the  end  of  1561. 


XXXII]  3LIFE 

that,  for  many  reasons,  the  number  of  nuns  in  the  convent  ought 
never  to  exceed  thirteen.  Before  beginning  to  discuss  the  matter 
we  had  written  to  the  holy  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara  and  told  him 
all  that  was  happening.  He  advised  us  not  to  desist  from  our  work 
and  gave  us  his  opinion  about  the  whole  matter. 

Hardly  had  news  of  the  project  begun  to  be  known  here  than 
there  descended  upon  us  a  persecution  so  severe  that  it  is  impos- 
sible in  a  few  words  to  describe  it:  people  talked  about  us,  laughed 
at  us  and  declared  that  the  idea  was  ridiculous.  Of  me,  they  said 
that  I  was  all  right  in  the  convent  *vhere  I  was  living,  while  my 
companion  was  subjected  to  such  persecution  that  it  quite 
exhausted  her.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  for  up  to  a  certain  point 
I  thought  these  people  were  right.  Worn  out  with  it  all  as  I  was, 
I  commended  myself  to  God  and  His  Majesty  began  to  give 
me  consolation  and  encouragement.  He  told  me  that  I  could  now 
see  what  those  saints  who  had  founded  religious  Orders  had 
suffered:  they  had  had  to  endure  much  more  persecution  than 
any  I  could  imagine  and  we  must  not  allow  ourselves  to  be 
troubled  by  it.  He  told  me  certain  things  which  I  was  to  say  to 
my  companion,  and  to  my  absolute  amazement  we  at  once  felt 
comforted  by  what  had  happened  and  courageous  enough  to 
resist  everybody.  And  it  is  a  fact  that,  at  that  time,  both  among 
people  of  prayer  and  in  the  whole  place,  there  was  hardly  anyone 
who  was  not  against  us  and  did  not  consider  our  project  absolutely 
ridiculous.1 

There  was  so  much  commotion  and  talk  of  this  kind  in  my 
own  convent  that  the  Provincial  thought  it  would  be  hard  for 
him  to  set  himself  against  everybody;  so  he  changed  his  mind 
and  refused  to  sanction  the  plan.  He  said  that  the  revenue  was 
not  assured,  that  in  any  case  there  would  be  too  little  of  it,  and 
that  the  plan  was  meeting  with  considerable  opposition.  In  all 
this  he  appeared  to  be  right.  So  he  dropped  the  matter  and 
refused  to  sanction  the  new  convent.  We,  on  whom  the  first 
blows  now  seemed  to  have  fallen,  were  very  much  distressed  at 
this,  and  I  myself  was  particularly  so  at  finding  the  Provincial 
against  me,  for  his  previous  approval  of  the  plan  had  justified  me 
in  the  eyes  of  all.  My  companion  was  refused  absolution  unless 
she  would  give  up  the  idea;  it  was  incumbent  on  her,  she  was  told, 
to  remove  the  scandal. 

1  The  Saint's  niece  Teresita  related  [cf.  P.  Silverio,  I,  270,  n.J  that  the  proposed 
reform  was  even  publicly  denounced  from  Avilan  pulpits  On  one  occasion,  she  saySa 
St.  Teresa  and  her  sister  Dona  Juana  went  to  hear  a  sermon  at  St.  Thomas's  and  to 
Dona  Juana's  discomfiture  the  preacher  ("a  religious  of  a  certain  Order")  began  to 
inveigh  against  "nuns  who  left  their  convents  to  go  and  found  new  Orders".  But 
when  she  turned  indignantly  to  see  how  St.  Teresa  was  taking  it,  she  found  that  she 
was  having  a  quiet  laugh  (con  gran  paz  se  cstaba  riendo),  [Cf.  p.  226,  1.  i?  below.] 
The  identity  of  the  preacher  has  been  guessed  at,  but  is  not  known* 


222  LIFE  [CHAP. 

She  went  to  talk  the  matter  over  with  a  very  learned  man,  a 
most  devout  servant  of  God,  of  the  Order  of  Saint  Dominic,1 
and  to  him  she  detailed  the  whole  story.  This  she  did  even  before 
the  Provincial  withdrew  his  support  from  us,  for  we  had  no  one 
in  the  whole  place  who  would  advise  us  in  the  matter;  and  it  was 
for  that  reason  that  they  said  the  whole  thing  had  come  out  of 
our  own  heads.  The  lady  gave  this  holy  man  an  account  of 
everything  and  told  him  how  much  revenue  she  derived  from  her 
estate;  she  hoped  very  much  that  he  would  help  us,  since  at  that 
time  he  was  the  most  learned  man  in  the  place,  and  there  are 
few  more  learned  than  he  in  his  entire  Order.  I  myself  told  him 
all  that  we  were  proposing  to  do  and  some  of  the  reasons  for  it. 
I  said  nothing  to  him  about  any  of  the  revelations  I  had  had, 
but  only  described  the  reasons,  other  than  supernatural,  which 
were  prompting  me,  for  it  was  these  alone  that  I  wanted  Mm  to 
take  into  account  when  giving  us  his  opinion.  He  told  us  that 
we  must  allow  him  a  week  to  think  the  matter  over  before 
answering  and  asked  if  we  were  definitely  going  to  act  upon 
whatever  he  said.  I  told  him  we  were;  but  although  I  said  this, 
and  I  think  I  would  have  acted  upon  it,2 1  never  for  a  moment 
lost  my  confidence  that  the  foundation  would  be  made.  My 
companion  had  more  faith; 'and,  whatever  people  might  say  to 
her,  nothing  would  persuade  her  to  abandon  it. 

For  my  own  part,  although,  as  I  say,  the  abandonment  of 
the  project  seemed  to  me  impossible,  I  believed  the  revelation 
to  be  true  only  in  the  sense  that  it  was  not  contrary  to  what  is  in 
Holy  Scripture  or  to  the  laws  of  the  Church  which  we  are  obliged 
to  keep;  for,  despite  my  belief  that  it  really  came  from  God,  if 
that  learned  man  had  told  me  that  we  could  not  act  upon  it 
without  offending  Him  and  that  we  were  acting  against  our 
conscience,  I  think  I  should  at  once  have  abandoned  the  plan 
and  sought  some  other  way.  But  the  Lord  showed  me  no  other 
way  than  this.  Later,  this  servant  of  God  told  me  that  at  one 
point  he  had  definitely  decided  to  urge  us  to  give  the  project  up, 
because  his  attention  had  been  directed  to  the  popular  clamour, 
and  also  because  to  him,  as  to  everyone  else,  it  had  seemed 
folly;  that  a  certain  gentleman,  on  hearing  that  we  had  gone 
to  him,  had  sent  to  advise  him  to  be  careful  what  he  did  and  not 
to  help  us;  but  that,  when  he  had  begun  to  consider  what  he 
should  say  to  us,  to  think  over  the  matter,  and  to  reflect  upon 
the  intentions  that  were  prompting  us,  the  way  we  were  setting 
to  work  and  our  concern  for  our  Order,  he  became  convinced 

1  P.  Pedro  Ibanez,  one  of  the  Samt's  chief  supporters  in  the  early  days  of  her 
Reform,  of  which,  however,  he  saw  very  little,  for  he  died  in  1565. 
*  A  line  is  obliterated  here,  presumably  by  P.  Banez. 


XXXII]  LIFE  233 

that  we  should  be  rendering  God  a  great  service  and  that  the 
scheme  must  not  be  abandoned.  And  so  his  answer  was  that 
we  should  make  haste  to  carry  it  out;  he  told  us  by  what  ways 
and  methods  this  should  be  done;  and,  although  our  income  was 
small,  we  must  be  prepared  to  some  extent  to  trust  God.  Anyone, 
he  said,  who  offered  further  opposition  should  be  referred  to 
him  for  an  answer;  and  he  always  helped  us  in  this  way,  as  I 
shall  show  later. 

We  were  greatly  comforted  by  this,  and  also  by  the  fact  that 
several  saintly  persons,  who  had  previously  been  against  us,  were 
now  better  disposed  and  some  of  them  actually  helped  us.  One  of 
these  was  the  saintly  gentleman  whom  I  have  already  mentioned. 
He  now  felt  that  the  project,  being  founded,  as  in  fact  it  was,  on 
prayer,  would  lead  to  great  perfection,  and  though  he  thought 
it  would  be  difficult  and  impracticable  to  find  the  necessary 
means  for  making  the  foundation,  he  gave  up  his  former  view  and 
decided  that  the  idea  might  be  from  God,  in  which  decision  the 
Lord  Himself  must  have  inspired  him.  He  also  inspired  that 
Master,  the  cleric  and  servant  of  God  to  whom3  as  I  said,  I 
had  spoken  first  of  all,  who  is  a  pattern  to  the  whole  place  and 
a  person  whom  God  keeps  there  for  the  help  and  profit  of  many 
souls.1  He,  too,  came  forward  to  help  me  in.  the  matter.  And 
while  things  were  in  that  position,  and  many  people  were  con- 
tinually helping  us  by  their  prayers,  we  practically  completed 
the  negotiations  for  purchasing  the  house.  It  was  a  small  one, 
but  that  did  not  trouble  me  in  the  least,  for  the  Lord  had  told 
me  to  start  work  as  well  as  I  could  and  in  due  course  I  should  see 
what  His  Majesty  would  do  for  us*  (And  how  clearly  I  have 
seen  it!)  And  so,  though  I  realized  our  income  would  be  small, 
I  believed  that  the  Lord  would  have  other  ways  of  arranging 
things  for  us  and  would  give  us  His  help. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

Proceeds  with  the  same  subject — the  foundation  of  the  cowent  of  the 
glorious  Saint  Joseph.  Tells  how  she  was  commanded  not  to  continue 
it,  how  for  a  time  she  gave  it  up,  how  she  suffered  various  trials 
and  how  in  all  of  them  she  was  comforted  by  the  Lord. 

It  was  when  matters  had  reached  this  position  and  were  so 
near  completion  that  the  deeds  were  to  i>e  signed  on  the  following 

1  Master  Caspar  Daza.   [The  tide  of  "Master"  was  conferred  by  the  Orders  upon 
certain  religious  io  virtue  of  teaching  posts  held  by  them,  or  as  a  distinction,] 


224  LIFE  [CHAP. 

day  that  the  attitude  of  our  Father  Provincial  suddenly  changed. 
I  believe,  and  it  has  since  become  apparent,  that  this  change  was 
by  Divine  appointment;  for,  while  all  these  prayers  were  being 
offered  for  us,  the  Lord  was  perfecting  His  work  and  arranging 
for  it  to  be  accomplished  in  another  way.  As  the  Provincial 
would  not  now  sanction  the  foundation,  my  confessor  at  once 
forbade  me  to  go  on  with  it,  though  the  Lord  knows  what  sore 
trials  and  afflictions  it  had  cost  me  to  bring  it  to  its  present  state. 
When  the  project  was  given  up,  and  remained  unaccomplished, 
people  became  still  more  certain  that  it  was  all  some  ridiculous 
women's  idea,  and  the  evil-speaking  against  me  increased, 
though  until  then  I  had  been  acting  on  my  Provincial's  orders. 

I  was  now  very  unpopular  throughout  my  convent  for  having 
wanted  to  found  a  convent  more  strictly  enclosed.  The  nuns  said 
that  I  was  insulting  them;  that  there  were  others  there  who  were 
better  than  myself,  and  so  I  could  serve  God  quite  well  where  I 
was;  that  I  had  no  love  for  my  own  convent;  and  that  I  should 
have  done  better  to  get  money  for  that  than  for  founding  another. 
Some  said  I  ought  to  be  thrown  into  the  prison-cell;1  others 
came  out  on  my  side,  though  of  these  there  were  very  few.  I 
saw  quite  well  that  in  many  respects  they  were  right  and  I  could 
sometimes  make  allowances  for  them;  although,  as  I  could  not 
tell  them  the  principal  thing — namely,  that  I  had  been  obeying 
the  Lord's  command — I  did  not  know  what  to  do  and  so  was 
silent.  At  other  times  God  was  so  gracious  to  me  that  none  of 
this  worried  me  in  the  slightest;  I  gave  up  the  project  as  easily 
and  happily  as  though  it  had  cost  me  nothing.  This  nobody 
could  believe,  not  even  the  very  persons,  given  to  prayer  as  they 
were,  with  whom  I  had  to  do:  they  supposed  I  must  be  very 
much  distressed  and  ashamed — even  my  confessor  could  not 
really  believe  that  I  was  not.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  done  all 
I  possibly  could  to  fulfil  the  Lord's  command  and  that  therefore 
I  had  no  further  obligation.  So  I  remained  in  my  own  house, 
quite  content  and  happy.  I  could  not,  however,  give  up  my 
belief  that  the  task  would  be  duly  accomplished,  and,  though  I 
was  unable  to  forecast  the  means  and  knew  neither  how  nor  when 
the  work  would  be  done,  I  was  quite  sure  that  it  would  be  done 
in  time. 

What  troubled  me  a  great  deal  was  that  on  one  occasion  my 
confessor2  wrote  me  a  letter  of  a  kind  which  suggested  that  I 
had  in  some  way  been  acting  against  his  wishes.  It  must  Jiave 
been  the  Lord's  will  that  I  should  not  be  immune  from  trials 

1  The  prison-cell  of  the  Incarnation  still  exists*  It  was  quite  common  in  those  days 
for  religious  communities  to  imprison  their  recalcitrant  members. 
*  P.  Baltasar  Alvarez. 


XXXIIIJ  LIFE  225 

coming  from  the  source  which  would  cause  me  the  greatest  pain. 
For,  amid  this  multitude  of  persecutions,  my  confessor,  whom  I 
had  expected  to  console  me,  wrote  that  I  must  now  have  realized 
that  all  that  had  happened  was  just  a  drearn  and  that  henceforth 
I  must  lead  a  better  life  and  not  try  to  do  anything  more  of  the 
kind  or  talk  about  it  any  further,  since  I  now  saw  what  scandal 
it  had  occasioned.  He  said  other  things,  too,  all  of  them  very 
distressing.  This  troubled  me  more  than  everything  else  put 
together,  for  I  wondered  if  I  had  myself  been  an  occasion  of  sin 
to  others,  if  it  had  been  my  fault  that  offence  had  been  given  to 
God,  if  these  visions  were  illusory,  if  all  my  prayer  had  been  a 
deception  and  if  I  was  sorely  deluded  and  lost.  These  thoughts 
oppressed  me  to  such  an  extent  that  I  was  quite  upset  by  them 
and  plunged  into  the  deepest  affliction.  But  the  Lord,  Who  never 
failed  me,  and  in  all  these  trials  which  I  have  enumerated  often 
comforted  and  strengthened  me,  in  a  way  that  need  not  here 
be  described,  told  me  at  once  not  to  distress  myself  and  said  that 
I  had  not  offended  Him  in  the  matter  at  all  but  had  rendered 
Him  great  service.  He  told  me  to  do  what  my  confessor  ordered 
me  and  to  keep  silence  for  the  present  and  until  the  time  came 
for  the  project  to  be  resumed.  This  brought  me  such  comfort 
and  satisfaction  that  all  the  persecution  which  I  was  undergoing 
seemed  nothing  at  all. 

The  Lord  now  showed  me  what  a  signal  blessing  it  is  to  suffer 
trials  and  persecutions  for  His  sake,  for  so  great  was  the  growth 
in  my  soul  of  love  for  God  and  of  many  other  graces  that  I  was 
astounded,  and  this  made  me  incapable  of  ceasing  to  desire 
trials.  The  other  people  thought  I  was  very  much  ashamed — 
as  indeed  I  should  have  been  had  the  Lord  not  helped  me  in 
these  straits  by  granting  me  such  great  favours.  It  was  now  that 
I  began  to  experience  the  increasingly  strong  impulses  of  the 
love  of  God  which  I  have  described,  and  also  deeper  raptures, 
although  I  was  silent  on  this  subject  and  never  spoke  to  anyone 
of  what  I  had  gained.  The  saintly  Dominican1  did  not  cease 
to  share  my  certainty  that  the  project  would  be  accomplished; 
and,  as  I  myself  would  take  no  further  part  in  it,  lest  I  should 
run  contrary  to  the  obedience  which  I  owed  my  confessor,  he 
discussed  it  with  my  companion  and  they  wrote  to  Rome  and 
sought  a  way  out. 

And  now  the  devil  began  to  contrive  that  one  person  after 
another  should  hear  that  I  had  received  some  kind  of  revelation 
about  this  matter,  and  people  came  to  me  in  great  concern  to 
say  that  these  were  bad  times  and  that  it  might  be  that  some- 
thing would  be  alleged  against  me  and  I  should  have  to  go  before 

1  P.  Pedro 


226  LIFE  [CHAP. 

the  Inquisitors.  But  they  only  amused  me  and  made  me  laugh, 
because  I  never  had  any  fear  about  this.  I  knew  quite  well  that 
in  matters  of  faith  no  one  would  ever  find  me  transgressing  even 
the  smallest  ceremony  of  the  Church,  and  that  for  the  Church 
or  for  any  truth  of  Holy  Scripture  I  would  undertake  to  die  a 
thousand  deaths.  So  I  told  them  not  to  be  afraid,  for  my  soul 
would  be  in  a  very  bad  way  if  there  were  anything  about  it  which 
could  make  me  fear  the  Inquisition.  If  ever  I  thought  there^might 
be,  I  would  go  and  pay  it  a  visit  of  my  own  accord;  and  if  any- 
thing were  alleged  against  me  the  Lord  would  deliver  me  and  I 
should  be  very  much  the  gainer.  I  discussed  this  with  my  Domini- 
can Father,  who,  as  I  say,  was  a  very  learned  man,  so  that  I 
knew  I  could  rely  on  anything  he  might  say  to  me.  I  told  him, 
as  clearly  as  I  could,  all  about  my  visions,  my  way  of  prayer 
and  the  great  favours  which  the  Lord  was  granting  me,  and  I 
begged  him  to  think  it  all  over  very  carefully,  to  let  me  know 
if  there  was  anything  in  them  contrary  to  Holy  Scripture  and  to 
tell  me  his  feelings  about  the  whole  matter.  He  reassured  me  a 
great  deal  and  I  think  it  was  a  help  to  him  too;  for,  although 
he  was  very  good,  from  that  time  onward  he  devoted  himself 
much  more  to  prayer,  and  retired  to  a  monastery  of  his  Order 
where  there  is  great  scope  for  solitude,  so  that  he  might  the  better 
practise  prayer;  and  here  he  stayed  for  over  two  years.1  He  was 
then  commanded  under  obedience  to  leave,  which  caused  him 
great  regret,  but  he  was  such  an  able  man  that  they  needed 

him. 

In  one  way,  I  was  very  sorry  when  he  went,  because  I  too 
needed  him  badly.  But  I  did  nothing  to  unsettle  him,  for  I 
realized  that  the  gain  was  his;  and,  when  I  was  feeling  very 
much  grieved  at  hjs  departure,  the  Lord  told  me  to  take  comfort 
and  not  be  distressed,  because  he  was  being  led  in  the  light  way. 
"When  he  came  back,  his  soul  had  made  such  progress  and  his 
spiritual  growth  had  been  so  great  that  he  told  me  after  his  return 
that  he  would  not  have  missed  going  for  anything.  And  I  too 
could  say  the  same  thing;  for  previously  he  had  been  reassuring 
and  comforting  me  only  by  his  learning,  whereas  now  he  did  so 
as  well  by  the  ample  spiritual  experience  which  he  had  acquired 
of  things  supernatural.  And  God  brought  him  back  just  at  the 
right  time,  for  His  Majesty  saw  that  he  would  be  needed  to  help 
with  this  convent,  the  foundation  of  which  was  His  Majesty's 

wiU. 
For  five  or  six  months  I  remained  silent,  taking  no  further 

1  At  Trianos,  in  the  province  of  Leon.  Actually  he  died  there,  at  about  the  time 
when  St.  Teresa  was  completing  this  book,  so  his  return  to  Avila,  referred  to  in  the 
text  below,  can  have  been  only  temporary. 


XXXIII]  LIFE  2*7 

steps  with  regard  to  the  plan  and  never  even  speaking  about  it, 
and  the  Lord  gave  me  not  a  single  command.  I  had  no  idea  what 
was  the  reason  for  this,  but  I  could  not  get  rid  of  my  belief  that 
the  foundations-would  be  duly  made.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  the 
priest  who  had  been  Rector  of  the  Company  of  Jesus  having  left, 
His  Majesty  brought  a  successor  to  him  here  who  was  a  very 
spiritual  man,  of  great  courage,  intelligence  and  learning,  at 
a  time  when  I  was  in  dire  need.1  For  the  priest  who  at  that  time 
was  hearing  my  confessions  had  a  superior  over  him,  and  in  the 
Company  they  are  extremely  particular  about  the  virtue  of  never 
doing  the  slightest  thing  save  in  conformity  with  the  will  of  those 
who  are  over  them.  So,  although  he  thoroughly  understood  my 
spirit  and  desired  its  progress,  there  were  certain  matters  about 
which,  for  very  good  reasons,  he  dared  not  be  at  all  definite. 
My  spirit,  which  was  now  experiencing  the  most  vehement 
impulses,  was  greatly  troubled  at  being  constrained  in  this  way; 
I  did  not,  however,  depart  from  his  orders. 

One  day,  when  I  was  in  great  affliction,  thinking  that  my 
confessor  did  not  believe  me,  the  Lord  told  me  not  to  be 
worried,  for  my  distress  would  soon  be  over.  I  was  very  glad, 
supposing  His  meaning  to  be  that  I  was  soon  going  to  die,  and 
whenever  I  thought  of  this  I  was  very  happy.  Later  I  realized 
that  He  was  referring  to  the  arrival  of  this  Rector  whom  I  have 
mentioned;  for  I  never  had  any  reason  to  feel  so  distressed  again, 
because  the  new  Rector  placed  no  restrictions  upon  the  minister 
who  was  my  confessor,  but  told  him  that,  as  there  was  no  cause 
for  fear,  he  should  comfort  me  and  not  lead  me  by  so  strait  a 
path,  but  allow  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  to  work  in  me,  for  some- 
times it  seemed  as  if  these  strong  spiritual  impulses  prevented  my 
soul  even  from  breathing. 

This  Rector  came  to  see  me  and  my  confessor  told  me  to  consult 
him  with  the  utmost  frankness  and  freedom.  I  used  to  dislike 
very  much  speaking  about  the  matter,  and'  yet,  when  I  went 
into  the  confessional,  I  felt  something  in  my  spirit  which  I  do 
not  recall  having  felt  in  the  presence  of  anyone  else,  either  before 
or  since.  I  cannot  possibly  describe  its  nature  or  compare  it 
with  anything  whatsoever.  For  it  was  a  spiritual  joy:  my  soul 
knew  that  here  was  a  soul  that  would  understand  and  be  in 
harmony  with  mine,  although,  as  I  say,  I  do  not  know  how  this 

1  The  Rector  Who  left  Avila  was  P.  Dionisio  Vazquez,  confessor  of  St.  Francis 
Borgia  and  famous  in  the  history  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  for  his  negotiations  with 
Philip  II,  the  Inquisition  and  the  Holy  See,  the  aim  of  which  was  to  remove  the 
Spanish  houses  of  the  Society  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  General  m  Rome.,  He  was 
succeeded,  in  1561,  by  P.  Caspar  de  Salazar.  Disagreements  which  arose  between 
3t  Giles'  College  and  Don  Alvaro  de  Mendoza,  Bishop  of  Avila,  led  to  P.  Salazar's 
removal  early  in  1 562  '•  he  had  gone  when  St.  Teresa  returned*  from  her  visit  to  Tnl**Hft. 


2*8  LIFE  [CHAP. 

happened.  If  I  had  ever  spoken  to  him  or  had  been  told  great 
things  about  him,  it  would  not  have  been  strange  that  I  should 
have  felt  happy  and  been  sure  that  he  would  understand  me; 
but  I  had  never  spoken  a  word  to  him  before,  nor  had  he  to  me, 
nor  was  he  a  person  about  whom  I  had  ever  previously  heard 
anything.  Later  I  discovered  that  my  instinct  had  not  been 
wrong,  and  my  contact  with  him  has  in  every  way  been  of  great 
benefit  to  me  and  to  my  soul;  for  he  knows  how  to  treat  persons 
whom  the  Lord  seems  to  have  brought  to  an  advanced  state: 
he  makes  them  run,  not  walk  a  step  at  a  time.  His  method  is  to 
train  them  in  complete  detachment  and  mortification,  and  for 
this,  as  for  many  other  things,  the  Lord  has  given  him  the  greatest 
aptitude. 

When  I  began  to  have  dealings  with  him,  I  realized  at  once 
what  type  of  director  he  was,  and  saw  that  he  had  a  pure  and  holy 
soul  and  a  special  gift  from  the  Lord  for  the  discernment  of  spirits. 
From  this  I  derived  much  comfort.  Soon  after  I  came  under  his 
direction,  the  Lord  began  to  lay  it  upon  me  again  that  I  must 
take  up  the  matter  of  the  convent  and  put  all  my  reasons  and 
aims  before  my  confessor  and  this  Rector  so  that  they  should  not 
hinder  me.  Some  of  the  things  I  said  made  them  afraid,  but  this 
Father  Rector  never  doubted  that  I  was  being  led  by  the  Spirit 
of  God,  having  studied  and  thought  very  carefully  about  the 
effects  which  would  be  produced  by  the  foundation.  In  short, 
after  hearing  these  numerous  reasons,  they  did  not  dare  to  risk 
hindering  me. 

My  confessor  now  gave  me  leave  once  more  to  take  up  the 
work  again  with  all  my  might.  I  saw  clearly  with  what  a  task 
I  was  burdening  myself,  since  I  was  quite  alone  and  there  was  so 
very  little  that  I  could  do.  We  agreed  that  the  work  should  be 
done  in  all  secrecy,  and  so  I  arranged  that  a  sister  of  mine,1 
who  lived  outside  the  town,  should  buy  the  house  and  furnish 
it,  as  if  it  were  to  be  for  herself,  the  Lord  having  given  us  money, 
from  various  sources,  for  its  purchase.  It  would  take  a  long  time 
to  tell  how  the  Lord  continued  to  provide  for  us.  I  thought  it 
of  great  importance  to  do  nothing  against  obedience,  but  I 
knew  that,  if  I  told  my  superiors  about  it,  everything  would  be 
ruined,  just  35  it  was  on  the  last  occasion,  and  this  time  things 
might  be  even  worse.  Getting  the  money,  finding  a  convent, 
arranging  for  its  purchase  and  having  it  furnished  cost  me  many 
trials,  some  of  which  I  had  to  suffer  quite  alone;  my  companion 
did  what  she  could,  but  that  was  little — so  little  as  to  be  hardly 
anything  beyond  allowing  the  work  to  be  done  in  her  name  and 
with  her  approval.  All  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  work  was 


XXXIII]  LIFE  229 

mine  and  there  were  so  many  different  things  to  do  that  I  wonder 
now  how  I  was  able  to  go  through  with  it.  Sometimes  in  my 
distress  I  would  say:  "My  Lord,  how  is  it  that  Thou  commandest 
me  to  do  things  which  seem  impossible?  If  only  I  were  free, 
woman  though  I  am — !  But  being  bound  in  so  many  ways, 
without  money  or  means  of  procuring  it,  either  for  the  Brief  or 
for  anything  else,  what  can  I  do.  Lord?" 

Once,  when  I  was  in  a  difficulty  and  could  not  think  what 
,  to  do,  or  how  I  was  going  to  pay  some  workmen.  Saint  Joseph, 
my  true  father  and  lord,  appeared  to  me  and  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  money  would  not  be  lacking  and  I  must  make  all  the 
necessary  arrangements.  I  did  so,  though  I  had  not  a  farthing, 
and  the  Lord,  in  ways  which  amazed  people  when  they  heard  of 
them,  provided  the  money.1  I  thought  the  house  very  small, 
so  small  that  it  seemed  impossible  to  turn  it  into  a  convent.2 
I  wanted  to  buy  another,  but  had  not  the  wherewithal,  so  there 
was  no  way  of  buying  it,  and  I  could  not  think  what  to  do. 
There  was  a  house  near  our  own,  but  it  was  also  too  small  to 
make  into  a  church.  One  day,  after  I  had  communicated,  the 
Lord  said  to  me:  "I  have  already  told  you  to  go  in  as  best  you 
can,"  and  then  added  a  kind  of  exclamation :  "Oh,  the  greed 
of  mankind!  So  you  really  think  there  will  not  be  enough 
ground  for  you!3  How  often  did  I  sleep  all  night  in  the  open  air 
because  I  had  not  where  to  lay  My  head!"  This  amazed  me, 
but  I  saw  that  He  was  right.  So  I  went  to  look  at  the  little 
house,  and  worked  things  out,  and  found  that  it  would  just  make 
a  convent,  though  a  very  small  one.  I  thought  no  more  then 
about  buying  another  site  but  arranged  to  have  this  house 
furnished  so  that  we  could  live  in  it.  Everything  was  very 
rough  and  it  had  only  enough  done  to  it  not  to  make  it  injurious 
to  the  health.  And  that  is  the  principle  that  should  be  followed 
everywhere, 

On  Saint  Clare's  day,  as  I  was  going  to  Communion,  that 
Saint  appeared  to  me  in  great  beauty  and  told  me  to  put  forth 

1  The  benefactor  was  St.  Teresa's  brother  Lorenzo,  who  had  emigrated  to  America, 
settled  in  what  to-day  is  tiie  capital  of  Ecuador  and  married  a  daughter  of  one  of  the 
conqmstadores  of  Peru.  He  came  back  to  Spain  a  wealthy  mart  and  did  a  great  deal  of 
good  with  his  money.  See  Letters,  a. 

*  The  house,  which  St.  Teresa  bought  through  the  agency  of  her  brother-in-law 
Don  Juan  de  Ovalle,  was  indeed  so  small  that  all  her  biographers  have  compared 
it  to  the  "little  porch  of  Bethlehem"  (Gf  Foundations:  Vol.  Ill,  p.  66,  below). 
Julian  de  Avila  (Vida  de  Santa  Teresa,  Part  II,  Chap  VIII)  describes  the  chapel  as 
"  hardly  more  than  ten  paces  in  length '  *.  The  diminutive  bell  used  in  this  first  convent 
was  restored  in  1868  to  Avila  from  Pastrana,  where  it  was  taken  in  1634,  and  now 
hangs  beside  the  great  bell  which  calls  the  religious  to  offices. 

3  [The  second  personal  pronouns  in  this  quotation  are  in  the  singular,  but  the 
phraseology  is  markedly  colloquial,  and  to  bring  this  out  I  have  used  "you"  in 
preference  to  "thou".] 


230  LIFE  [CHAP. 

all  my  efforts  and  proceed  with  what  I  had  begun  and  she  would 
help  me.  I  conceived  a  great  devotion  for  her  and  her  words 
turned  out  to  be  the  exact  truth,  for  a  convent  of  her  Order, 
which  is  near  our  own,  is  helping  to  maintain  us.  What  is  more, 
she  has  gradually  brought  this  desire  of  mine  to  such  perfection 
that  the  poverty  observed  by  the  blessed  Saint  in  her  own  house 
is  being  observed  in  this  and  we  live  upon  alms.  It  has  cost  me 
no  little  trouble  to  get  this  principle  quite  definitely  and  authori- 
tatively approved  by  the  Holy  Father — this,  of  course,  being 
essential — so  that  we  shall  never  have  any  income.1  And — at  the 
request,  it  may  be,  of  this  blessed  Saint — the  Lord  is  doing  still 
more  for  us.  Without  any  demand  on  our  part  His  Majesty  is 
providing  amply  for  all  our  needs.  May  He  be  blessed  for  it  all. 
Amen. 

At  this  same  period,  on  the  festival  of  the  Assumption  of  Our 
Lady,  I  was  in  a  monastery  of  the  Order  of  the  glorious  Saint 
Dominic,  thinking  of  the  many  sins  which  in  times  past  I  had 
confessed  in  that  house  and  of  other  things  concerning  my  wicked 
life,  when  there  came  upon  me  a  rapture  so  vehement  that  it 
nearly  drew  me  forth  out  of  myself  altogether.2  I  sat  down  and  I 
remember  even  now  that  I  could  neither  see  the  Elevation  nor 
hear  Mass  being  said,  and  later  this  caused  me  a  certain  amount 
of  scruple.  While  in  this  state,  I  thought  I  saw  myself  being 
clothed  in  a  garment  of  great  whiteness  and  brightness.  At  first 
I  could  not  see  who  was  clothing  me,  but  later  I  saw  Our  Lady 
on  my  right  hand  and  my  father  Saint  Joseph  on  my  left,  and  it 
was  they  who  were  putting  that  garment  upon  me.  I  was  given 
to  understand  that  I  was  now  cleansed  of  my  sins.  When  the 
clothing  was  ended,  and  I  was  experiencing  the  greatest  joy  and 
bliss,  I  thought  that  Our  Lady  suddenly  took  me  by  the  hands 
and  told  me  that  I  was  giving  her  great  pleasure  by 'serving  the 
glorious  Saint  Joseph  and  that  I  might  be  sure  that  all  I  was  try- 
ing to  do  about  the  convent  would  be  accomplished  and  that 
both  the  Lord  and  they  two  would  be  greatly  served  in  it.  I  was 
not  to  fear  that  there  would  be  any  failure  whatever  about  this, 
although  the  nature  of  the  obedience  which  it  would  have  to 
render  might  not  be  to  my  liking.  They  would  keep  us  safe  and 
her  Son  had  already  promised  to  go  with  us:  as  a  sign  that  that 
was  true,  she  said,  she  would  give  me  this  jewel, '  Then  she  seemed 

1  The  original  Brief  (February  7,  1562),  addressed  to  Dona  Aldonza  de  Guzman 
and  her  daughter  Dona  Guiomar  de  UUpa,  authorized  them  to  hold  property  in 
common^  as  the  Saint  had  not  at  that  time  decided  to  forgo  an  endowment,  A 
Rescript  dated  December  5,  1562,  however,  confirmed  by  Brief  of  July  17,  1565, 
granted  the  Convent  permission  to  live  on  public  charity,  without  a  fixed  revenue, 
believed  to  have  come  to  the  Saint  in  1561,^11  the  chapel  known 


XXXIII]  LIFE  231 

to  throw  round  my  neck  a  very  beautiful  gold  collar,  to  which  was 
fastened  a  most  valuable  cross.  The  gold  and  stones  were  so 
different  from  earthly  things  of  the  kind  that  no  comparison 
between  them  is  possible:  their  beauty  is  quite  unlike  anything 
that  we  can  imagine  and  the  understanding  cannot  soar  high 
enough  to  comprehend  the  nature  of  the  garment  or  to  imagine 
the  brightness  of  the  vision  which  it  was  the  Lord's  will  to  send 
me,  and  by  comparison  with  which  everything  on  earth  looks, 
as  one  might  say,  like  a  smudge  of  soot. 

The  beauty  which  I  saw  in  Our  Lady  was  wonderful,  though 
I  could  discern  in  her  no  particularly  beautiful  detail  of  form: 
it  was  her  face  as  a  whole  that  was  so  lovely  and  the  whiteness 
and  the  amazing  splendour  of  her  vestments,  though  the  light 
was  not  dazzling,  but  quite  soft.  The  glorious  Saint  Joseph  I 
did  not  see  so  clearly,  though  I  could  see  plainly  that  he  was 
there,  as  in  the  visions  to  which  I  have  already  referred  and  in 
which  nothing  is  seen.  Our  Lady  looked  to  me  quite  like  a  child. 
When  they  had  been  with  me  for  a  short  time  and  caused  me  the 
greatest  bliss  and  happiness — more,  I  believe,  than  I  had  ever 
before  experienced,  so  that  I  wished  I  need  never  lose  it — I 
seemed  to  see  them  ascending  to  Heaven  with  a  great  multitude 
of  angels,  I  remained  quite  alone,  but  so  greatly  comforted 
and  exalted  and  recollected  in  prayer,  and  so  full  of  tender 
devotion,  that  I  stayed  for  some  time  where  I  was,  without 
moving,  and  unable  to  speak,  quite  beside  myself.  I  was  left 
with  a  vehement  impulse  to  melt  away  in  love  for  God,  and 
with  other  feelings  of  a  like  kind,  for  everything  happened  in 
such  a  way  that  I  could  never  doubt  that  this  was  of  God, 
however  hard  I  tried.  It  left  me  greatly  comforted  and  full  of 
peace. 

As  to  what  the  Queen  of  the  Angels  said  about  obedience, 
the  point  of  it  is  that  it  was  a  grief  to  me  not  to  make  over  the 
convent  to  the  Order,  but  the  Lord  had  told  me  that  it  would 
not  *be  wise  for  me  to  do  so.  He  gave  me  reasons  for  which  it 
would  be  extremely  unwise  and  told  me  to  send  to  Rome,  and  to 
follow  a  r-.flrt-fl.iTi  procedure,  which  He  also  described  to  me. 
He  would  see  to  it  that  that  procedure  should  bring  security. 
And  so  it  came  about.  I  sent  as  the  Lord  had  told  me — had  I 
not,  we  should  never  have  concluded  the  negotiations — and  it 
turned  out  very  well.  As  to  the  things  which  have  happened 
since,  it  proved  a  very  wise  arrangement  that  we  should  be 
under  the  Bishop's  obedience,  but  at  the  time  I  did  not  know 
this,  nor  did  I  even  know  who  that  prelate  would  be.  But  the 
Lord  was  pleased  that  he  should  be  good  and  helpful  to  this 
house,  as  has  been  necessary,  in  view  of  all  the  opposition  it  has 


232  LIFE  [CHAP. 

met  with,  which  I  shall  recount  later,  and  in  order  to  bring  it 
to  the  state  it  is  now  in.1  Blessed  be  He  Who  has  brought  all  this 
to  pass!  Amen. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Describes  how  about  this  time  she  had  to  leave  the  place,  for  a  reason 
which  is  given,  and  how  her  superior  ordered  her  to  go  and  comfort 
a  great  lady  who  was  in  sore  distress.  Begins  the  description  of 
what  happened  to  her  there,  of  how  the  Lord  granted  her  the  great 
favour  of  being  the  means  whereby  His  Majesty  aroused  a  great 
person  to  serve  Him  in  real  earnest  and  of  how  later  she  obtained  help 
and  protection  fwm  Him.  This  chapter  should  be  carefully  noted. 

Despite  all  the  care  I  took  that  nothing  should  be  known 
of  all  this  work  that  I  was  doing,  it  could  not  be  done  so  secretly 
but  that  a  few  people  heard  of  it:  of  these,  some  believed  in  it, 
while  others  did  not.  I  was  sorely  afraid  that  they  would  say 
something  about  it  to  the  Provincial  when  he  came,  and  that  he 
might  then  order  me  to  stop,  in  which  case  all  would  be  up  with 
it.  The  Lord  provided  against  this  as  follows. s  It  happened  that, 
in  a  large  city,2  more  than  twenty  leagues  from  here,  there  was  a 
lady  in  great  distress  because  of  the  death  of  her  husband: 
her  grief  had  reached  such  a  pitch  that  there  were  fears  for  her 
health.3  She  had  heard  about  this  poor  sinner — for  the  Lord  had 
ordained  that  people  should  speak  well  to  her  about  me  for  other 
good  purposes  which  resulted  from  this.  This  lady  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  Provincial,  and  as  she  was  an  important 
person  and  knew  that  I  lived  in  a  convent  where  the  nuns  were 
allowed  to  leave  the  house,  the  Lord  gave  her  a  very  great  desire 
to  see  me :  she  thought  that  I  might  bring  her  comfort,  which  she 
could  not  find  herself.  So  she  began  at  once  to  use  all  possible 
means  to  get  me  to  visit  her,  sending  a  great  distance,  for  that 
purpose,  to  the  Provincial.  He  sent  me  an  order  to  go  at  once, 
under  obedience,  with  a  single  companion.  This  message  I 
received  on  Christmas  night. 

It  disturbed  me  a  little  and  distressed  me  a  great  deal  to  think 
that  she  wanted  me  to  come  to  her  because  she  believed  there 

lfThe  Bishop,  when  the  foundation  was  made,  was  Don  Alvaro  de  Mendoza 
(p.  227,  n.  i,  above),  who  had  taken  possession  of  his  office  on  December  4, 1560.  He 
was  greatly  devoted  to  St.  Teresa  and  a  strong  supporter  of  her  Reform. 

*  This  lady  was  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Cerda,  widow  of  Don  Arias  Pardo  de  Saavedra, 
who  died  in  1561,  and  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Medinaceli,  who  was  in  the  direct 
line  of  descent  from  Alfonso  X. 


XXXIV]  LIFE  233 

was  some  good  in  me:  knowing  myself  to  be  so  wicked,  I  could 
not  bear  this.  I  commended  myself  earnestly  to  God;  and, 
during  the  whole  of  Matins,  or  for  a  great  part  of  it,  I  was  in  a 
deep  rapture.  The  Lord  told  me  I  must  go  without  fail  and  must 
not  listen  to  people's  opinions,  as  there  were  few  who  would 
advise  me  otherwise  than  rashly:  to  go  might  bring  trials  upon 
me,  but  God  would  be  greatly  served,  and,  as  far  as  the  convent 
was  concerned,  it  would  be  as  well  if  I  were  absent  until  the 
Brief  arrived,  because  the  devil  had  organized  a  great  plot 
against  the  arrival  of  the  Provincial;  I  was  to  fear  nothing, 
however,  for  He  would  help  me  in  this.  I  found  this  assurance 
a  great  strength  and  comfort.  I  told  the  Rector  about  it.  He 
told  me  to  go  by  all  means,  whereas  others  were  telling  me  that 
I  should  not  stand  it,  that  it  was  an  invention  of  the  devU  to  bring 
some  evil  upon  me  there,  and  that  I  ought  to  send  word  about  it 
to  the  Provincial. 

1  obeyed  the  Rector,  and,  after  what  I  had  learned  in  prayer, 
went  without  any  fear,  though  not  without  the  greatest  confusion 
when  I  saw  the  reason  of  their  sending  for  me  and  knew  all  the 
time  how  completely  they  were  mistaken.  This  made  me  beseech 
the  Lord  still  more  earnestly  that  He  would  not  abandon  me.  It 
was  a  great  comfort  to  me  that  there  was  a  house  of  the  Company 
of  Jesus  in  the  place  where  I  was  going1:  I  thought  I  should  feel 
fairly  safe  if  I  continued  to  be  subject  to  their  direction,  as  I 
was  here.  The  Lord  was  pleased  that  the  lady  should  be  so  much 
comforted  that  she  began  at  once  to  grow  markedly  better: 
she  felt  more  comforted  every  day.  This  was  a  notable  achieve- 
ment, for,  as  I  have  said,  her  distress  was  causing  her  great 
depression:  the  Lord  must  have  brought  it  about  in  response  to 
the  many  prayers  for  the  success  of  my  enterprise  which  had  been 
offered  by  the  good  people  whom  I  knew.    She  was  a  most 
God-fearing  lady  and  so  good  that  her  most  Christian  spirit  made 
up  for  what  was  lacking  in  me.   She  conceived  a  great  affection 
for  me,  as  I  also  did  for  her  when  I  saw  how  good  she  was. 
But  almost  everything  was  a  cross  for  me:  the  comforts  in  her 
house  were  a  real  torment  and  when  she  made  so  much  of  me 
I  was  filled  with  fear.  My  soul  had  such  misgivings  that  I  dared 
not  be  careless,  and  the  Lord  was  not  careless  of  me,  for  while 
I  was  there  He  showed  me  the  most  signal  favours2  and  these 
made  me  feel  so  free  and  enabled  me  so  to  despise  all  I  saw — 
and  the  more  I  saw,  the  more  I  despised  it — that  I  never  treated 
those  great  ladies,  whom  it  would  have  been  a  great  honour  to 

1 A  Jesuit  house  had  been  founded  at  Toledo  in  1558  by  St.  Francis  Borgia.   Its 
first  Superior,  P.  Pedro  Domenech,  later  became  St.  Teresa's  confessor. 

2  Some  of  these  favours  are  described  on  the  Relations  (cf.  pp.  314-15,  below) 


234  LIFE  [CHAP. 

me  to  serve,  otherwise  than  with  the  freedom  of  an  equal.  From 
this  I  derived  great  profit,  and  I  told  my  lady  so.  I  saw  that  she 
was  a  woman,  and  as  subject  to  passions  and  weaknesses  as  I 
was  myself.  I  learned,  too,  how  little  regard  ought  to  be  paid  to 
rank,  and  how,  the  higher  is  the  rank,  the  greater  are  the  cares 
and  the  trials  that  it  brings  with  it.  And  I  learned  that  people 
of  rank  have  to  be  careful  to  behave  according  to  their  state, 
which  hardly  allows  them  to  live:  they  must  take  their  meals 
out  of  the  proper  time  and  order,  for  everything  has  to  be 
regulated,  not  according  to  their  constitutions  but  according  to 
their  position;  often  the  very  food  which  they  eat  has  more  to 
do  with  their  position  than  with  their  liking. 

So  it  was  that  I  came  to  hate  the  very  desire  to  be 
a  great  lady.  God  deliver  me  from  this  sinful  fuss — though 
I  believe  that,  despite  her  being  one  of  the  most  important  in  the 
kingdom,  there  are  few  humbler  and  simpler  people  than  this 
woman.  I  was  sorry  for  her,  and  I  still  am  when  I  think  how 
often  she  has  to  act  against  her  own  inclination  in  order  to  live 
up  to  her  position.  Then,  with  regard  to  servants,  though  hers 
were  good,  one  can  really  place  very  little  trust  in  them.  It  is 
impossible  to  talk  more  to  one  of  them  than  to  another;  other- 
wise the  favoured  one  is  disliked  by  the  rest.  This  is  slavery; 
and  one  of  the  lies  which  the  world  tells  is  that  it  calls  such 
persons  masters,  whereas  in  a  thousand  ways,  I  think,  they  are 
nothing  but  slaves.  The  Lord  was  pleased  that,  during  the  time 
I  spent  in  that  house,  its  inmates  should  come  to  render  His 
Majesty  better  service,  though  I  was  not  free  from  trials,  or  from 
certain  jealousies  on  the  part  of  some  of  them,  on  account  of  the 
great  love  which  my  lady  had  for  me.  They  must  surely  have 
thought  that  I  was  working  for  some  interest  of  my  own.  The 
Lord  must  have  allowed  such  things  to  try  me  to  some  extent 
so  that  I  should  not  become  absorbed  in  the  comforts  which  I 
was  enjoying  there,  and  He  was  pleased  to  free  me  from  all 
this  to  my  soul's  profit. 

While  I  was  there,  it  chanced  that  a  religious  arrived  with 
whom  for  many  years  I  had  been  in  communication  on  various 
occasions  and  who  was  a  person  of  great  importance.1  When 
I  was  at  Mass  in  a  monastery  of  his  Order,  which  was  near  the 

1  Rlbera,  Yepes  and  St.  Teresa's  early  biographers  in  general  suppose  this  religious 
to  have  been  P,  Vicente  Barron,  but  modern  editors  follow  Gracian,  who,  in  the  notes 
already  referred  to  (pp.  7-8,  above),  identifies  him  as  E.  Garcia  de  Toledo.  Of  aristo- 
cratic stock  (p.  139,  n.  i,  above)  this  Dominican  went  to  the  Indies  as  a  child  with 
the  Viceroy  of  Mexico,  and  professed  in  the  capital  of  the  Viceroyalty  in  1535. 
Returning  to  Spain,  he  became  Superior  of  the  Avilan  monastery  in  1555.  Later, 
he  accompanied  his  cousin,  who  was  appointed  Viceroy  of  Peru,  to  that  country, 
returning  shortly  before  St.  Teresa's  death. 


XXXIV]  LIFE  235 

house  where  I  was  staying,1  the  desire  came  to  me  to  know  about 
the  state  of  his  soul,  for  I  wished  him  to  be  a  great  servant  of  God; 
so  I  got  up  in  order  to  go  to  speak  to  him.  But  then,  as  I  was 
already  recollected  in  prayer,  this  seemed  to  me  a  waste  of 
time.  What  right,  I  thought,  had  I  to  interfere  with  him?  So 
I  sat  down  again.  This  happened,  I  believe,  no  less  than  three 
times,  but  finally  my  good  angel  got  the  better  of  my  evil  angel 
and  I  went  to  ask  for  him  and  he  came  to  one  of  the  confessionals 
to  speak  to  me.  I  began  to  question  him  about  his  past  life,  and 
he  to  question  me  about  mine,  for  we  had  not  seen  one  another 
for  many  years.  I  began  to  tell  him  that  mine  had  been  a  life 
of  many  spiritual  trials.  He  urged  me  to  tell  him  what  the  trials 
were.  I  said  that  they  were  not  such  as  could  be  told  and  that  I 
ought  not  to  say  anything  about  them.  He  replied  that,  as  the 
Dominican  father  to  whom  I  have  alluded2  knew  of  them,  and 
was  a  great  friend  of  his,  he  would  tell  him  about  them  at  once, 
so  that  I  need  not  mind  doing  so  myself. 

The  truth  is,  he  could  not  help  importuning  me,  any  more, 
I  think,  than  I  could  help  talking  to  him;  for,  despite  all  the 
regret  and  shame  which  I  used  to  feel  when  I  discussed  these 
things  with  him  and  with  the  Rector  whom  I  have  mentioned,3 
I  was  not  now  in  the  least  distressed — in  fact,  I  found  it  a  great  com- 
fort. I  told  him  everything  under  the  seal  of  confession.  I  had  always 
taken  him  for  a  man  of  great  intelligence,  but  now  he  seemed 
to  me  shrewder  than  ever,  I  thought  what  great  talents  and  gifts 
he  had  and  what  a  deal  of  good  he  could  do  with  them  if  he  gave 
himself  wholly  to  God.  For  some  years  now  I  have  felt  like  this — 
I  never  see  a  person  whom  I  like  very  much  without  immediately 
wishing  that  I  could  sefe  him  wholly  given  to  God,  and  sometimes 
this  yearning  of  mine  is  so  strong  that  I  am  powerless  against  it. 
Though  I  want  everybody  to  serve  God,  my  desire  that  those 
whom  I  like  may  do  so  is  particularly  vehement,  and  so  I  become 
extremely  importunate  for  them  with  the  Lord.  This  is  what 
happened  in  the  case  of  the  religious  I  am  referring  to. 

He  asked  me  to  commend  him  often  to  God:  he  had  no  need 
to  do  so,  for  my  state  of  mind  was  such  that  I  could  not  do 
otherwise,  so  I  went  to  the  place  where  I  am  in  the  habit  of 
praying  in  solitude,  and,  with  extreme  recollection,  began  to 
speak  to  the  Lord  in  that  silly  way  in  which  I  often  speak  to  Him 
without  knowing  what  I  am  saying;  for  it  is  love  that  speaks, 
and  my  soul  is  so  far  transported  that  I  take  no  notice  of  the 

1  This  monastery,  dedicated  to  St.  Peter  Martyr,  was  in  fact  near  the  palace  of  the 
Duke  of  Medinaceli,  which  has  been  a  Discalced  Carmelite  convent  since  1607, 
and  is  not  far  from  the  Puerta  del  Gunbrdn. 

1  P.  Pedro  Ibdnez. 

3  P.  Gaspar  de  Salazar. 


>36  LIFE  [CHAP. 

listance  that  separates  it  from  God.  For  the  love  which  it  knows 
iis  Majesty  has  for  it  makes  it  forget  itself  and  it  thinks  it  is  in 
-Km,  and  that  He  and  it  are  one  and  the  same  thing  without 
my  division,  and  so  it  talks  nonsense.  I  shed  copious  tears, 
md  begged  Him  that  that  soul  might  really  give  itself  up  to  His 
jervice,  for,  good  as  I  thought  him,  I  was  not  satisfied  but  wanted 
hum  to  be  better  still.  And  after  praying  in  that  way,  I  remember 
saying  these  words:  "Lord,  Thou  must  not  refuse  me  this  favour. 
Think  what  a  good  person  he  is  for  us  to  have  as  our  friend/' 

Oh,  the  great  goodness  and  humaneness  of  God,  Who  regards 
not  the  words  but  the  desires  and  the  good- will  with  which  they 
are  uttered!  To  think  that  His  Majesty  should  allow  such  a 
person  as  myself  to  speak  to  Him  thus  boldly!  May  He  be  blessed 
for  ever  and  ever. 

That  night,  I  remember,  I  was  greatly  troubled  during  those 
hours  of  prayer,  wondering  if  I  had  incurred  the  enmity  of  God. 
I  could  not  be  sure  if  I  were  in  grace  or  no — not  that  I  wanted  to 
be  sure,  but  I  wanted  to  die,  so  as  to  find  myself  ilo  longer  in  a  life 
in  which  I  was  not  sure  if  I  were  c^ead  or  alive.  For  there  could 
be  no  worse  death  for  me  than  to  think  I  had  offended  God  and 
my  distress  about  this  caused  me  great  depression:  then  I  felt 
quite  happy  again,  and,  dissolving  into  tears,  besought  Him  not  to 
permit  such  a  thing.  I  soon  learned  that  I  might  safely  take 
comfort  and  be  certain1  that  I  was  in  grace,  since  my  love  for 
God  was  so  strong  and  His  Majesty  was  working  these  favours 
in  my  soul  and,  of  His  compassion,  giving  it  feelings  which  He 
would  never  give  to  a  soul  that  was  in  mortal  sin.  I  became 
confident  that  the  Lord  must  surely  do  for  this  person  what  I 
begged  of  Him.  He  told  me  to  say  certain  things  to  him.  I  was 
troubled  about  this,  as  I  had  no  idea  how  to  say  them,  and  the 
thing  I  most  dislike,  as  I  have  said,  is  having  to  take  messages 
to  a  third  person,  especially  if  I  am  not  sure  how  he  will 
receive  them  or  even  that  he  will  not  make  fun  of  me.  So  I 
was  sorely  distressed.  But  in  the  end  I  was  quite  persuaded  that  I 
must  do  it  without  fail,  and  I  believe  I  promised  God  that  I 
would,  but  I  was  so  shy  about  it  that  I  wrote  down  the  message 
and  handed  it  to  him. 

The  effect  which  it  produced  upon  him  showed  clearly  that 
it  came  from  God,  for  he  made  a  most  earnest  resolve  to  give 
himself  to  prayer,  though  he  did  not  fulfil  that  resolve  immedi- 
ately. As  the  Lord  desired  to  have  him  for  Himself,  He  had  sent 

1  Luis  de  Leon  substituted  "trust*'  (conftar)  for  the  "be  certain"  (estar  cierta)  of  the 
original  manuscript,  and  other  editors  have  followed  him.  But  St.  Teresa  felt  that  the 
joint  witness  of  a  good  conscience  and  her  interior  locutions  gave  her  the  moral 
certainty  which  she  describes. 


XXXIVJ  LIFE  237 

through  my  instrumentality  to  tell  him  certain  truths  which> 
without  my  knowing  it,  were  so  opposite  that  he  was  astounded. 
The  Lord  must  have  prepared  Mm  to  believe  that  they  came 
from  His  Majesty.  And  for  my  part,  miserable  creature  though 
I  am,  I  kept  beseeching  the  Lord  to  bring  him  right  back  to 
Himself  and  make  him  hate  the  pleasures  and  affairs  of  this  life, 
And — praised  be  God  for  ever! — so  he  did,  to  such  an  extent 
that,  every  time  he  speaks  to  me,  he  astounds  me.  If  I  had  not 
seen  it  for  myself,  I  should  have  thought  it  doubtful  that  in  so 
short  a  time  God  could  have  shown  him  such  increased  favours, 
and  led  him  to  become  so  completely  immersed  in  Him  that,  so 
far  as  things  of  earth  are  concerned,  he  no  longer  seerps  to  be 
alive.  May  His  Majesty  hold  him  in  His  hand,  for  he  has  such 
profound  self-knowledge  that,  if  he  advances  farther,  as  I  hope 
in  the  Lord  he  may,  he  will  be  one  of  the  most  notable  of  His 
servants  and  bring  many  souls  great  advantage.  For  in  spiritual 
things  he  has  had  a  great  deal  of  experience  in  a  short  time, 
these  being  gifts  bestowed  by  God  when  He  wills  and  as  He  wills 
and  having  nothing  to  do  either  with  time  or  with  service.  I 
do  not  mean  that  these  latter  things  are  unimportant  but  that 
often  the  Lord  grants  to  one  person  less  contemplation  in  twenty 
years  than  to  others  in  one:  His  Majesty  knows  why.  We  are 
wrong  if  we  think  that  in  the  course  of  years  we  are  bound  to 
understand  things  that  cannot  possibly  be  attained  without 
experience,  and  thus,  as  I  have  said,  many  are  mistaken  if  they 
think  they  can  learn  to  discern  spirits  without  being  spiritual 
themselves.  I  do  not  mean  that,  if  a  man  is  learned  but  not 
spiritual,  he  may  not  direct  a  person  of  spirituality.  But  in  both 
outward  and  inward  matters  which  depend  upon  the  course  of 
nature,  his  direction  will  of  course  be  of  an  intellectual  kind, 
while  in  supernatural  matters  he  will  see  that  it  is  in  conformity 
with  Holy  Scripture.  In  other  matters  he  must  not  worry  him- 
self to  death,  or  think  he  understands  what  he  does  not,  or  quench 
the  spirits,  for  these  souls  are  being  directed  by  another  Master, 
greater  than  he,  so  that  they  are  not  without  anyone  over  them. 
He  must  not  be  astonished  at  this  or  think  such  things  are 
impossible:  everything  is  possible  to  the  Lord.  He  must  strive  to 
strengthen  his  faith  and  humble  himself,  because  the  Lord  is 
perhaps  making  some  old  woman  better  versed  in  this  science 
than  himself,  even  though  he  be  a  very  learned  man.  If  he  has 
this  humility,  he  \vill  be  of  more  use  both  to  other  souls  and  to 
himself  than  if  he  tries  to  become  a  contemplative  without  being 
so  by  nature.  I  repeat,  then,  that  if  he  has  neither  experience 
nor  the  deepest  humility  which  will  reveal  to  him  how  little  he 
understands  and  show  him  that  a  thing  is  not  impossible  because 


238  LIFE  [CHAP. 

he  cannot  understand  it,  he  will  gain  little  himself  and  the  people 
who  have  to  do  with  him  will  gain  less.  But,  if  he  is  humble, 
he  need  not  fear  that  the  Lord  will  allow  either  him  or  them  to 
fall  into  error, 

Now  this  Father  of  whom  I  am  speaking,  and  to  whom  in 
many  ways  the  Lord  has  granted  humility,  has  studied  these 
matters  and  done  his  utmost  to  discover  all  that  study  can,  reveal. 
For  he  is  a  very  good  scholar,  and  when  he  has  no  experience 
of  a  thing  he  consults  those  who  have;  and,  as  the  Lord  also  helps 
him  by  granting  him  great  faith,  he  has  rendered  a  great  deal  of 
service  both  to  himself  and  to  certain  souls,  of  which  mine  is  one. 
For,  as  the  Lord  knew  of  the  trials  I  had  to  endure,  His  Majesty, 
having  seen  good  to  call  to  Himself  some  who  were  directing  me,1 
seems  to  have  provided  others  who  have  helped  me  in  numerous 
trials  and  done  me  a  great  deal  of  good.  The  Lord  has  almost 
completely  transformed  this  religious,  until,  as  one  might  say, 
he  hardly  knows  himself.  Though  formerly  he  had  poor  health, 
He  has  given  him  physical  strength,  so  that  he  can  do  penance, 
and  has  made  him  valiant  in  all  that  is  good,  and  has  done  other 
things  for  him  as  well.  He  seems,  then,  to  have  received  a  very 
special  vocation  from  the  Lord.  May  He  be  blessed  for  ever. 

All  this  good,  I  believe,  has  come  to  him  from  the  favours 
which  the  Lord  has  granted  him  in  prayer,  for  there  is  no  mis- 
taking their  reality.  The  Lord  has  already  been  pleased  to  test 
him  in  a  number  of  situations,  and  from  all  these  he  has  emerged 
like  one  who  has  amply  proved  the  reality  of  the  merit  which  we 
gain  by  suffering  persecutions.  I  hope  the  Lord  in  His  might  will 
grant  that  much  good  may  come  through  him  to  various  members 
of  his  Order  and  to  that  Order  itself.  This  is  already  beginning 
to  be  understood.  I  have  seen  great  visions  and  the  Lord  has  told 
me  a  number  of  very  wonderful  things  about  him  and  about  the 
Rector  of  the  Company  of  Jesus,  whom  I  have  already  mentioned,2 
and  about  two  other  religious  of  the  Order  of  Saint  Dominic:3 
especially  about  one  of  them,  to  whom,  for  his  own  profit,  the 
Lord  has  taught  certain  things  which  He4  had  previously  taught 
me.  From  this  Father  of  whom  I  am  now  speaking  I  have  learned 
a  great  deal. 

To  one  of  my  experiences  with  him  I  will  refer  here.  I  was 
with  him  once  in  the  locutory,  and  so  great  was  the  love  that 

*  Probably  St.  Peter  of  Akdntara  (d.  October  18, 1562)  and  P.  IbdfLez  (d.  February 
2>  J5^5)  •  C"  P»  Ibanez  is  included,  the  reference  has  a  bearing  upon  the  date  of  this 
book:  cf.  p.  &  above  and  pp.  271-2,  below.] 

*  P.  Caspar  de  Salazar. 

*  PP.  Pedro  Ibanez  and  Domingo  B£nez,  especially  the  first-named. 

*  [P.  Sdverio  reads  "he",  as  though  St«  Teresa  could  have  learned  things  from  the 
Dominican  which  the  Lord  taught  him  later!    The  pluperfect  and  the  word  "pre- 
viously" (antes)  seem  to  settle  the  matter] 


XXXIV]  LIFE  239 

my  soul  and  spirit  felt  to  be  burning  within  him  that  I  became 
almost  absorbed,  as  I  thought  of  the  wonders  of  God,  Who  had 
raised  a  soul  to  so  lofty  a  state  in  so  short  a  time.  It  filled  me  with 
confusion  to  see  him  listening  so  humbly  to  what  I  was  telling 
Kim  about  certain  things  concerning  prayer.  There  was  little 
enough  humility  in  me  that  I  could  talk  in  this  way  with  such  a 
person,  but  the  Lord  must  have  borne  with  me  because  of  the 
earnest  desire  that  I  had  to  see  him  make  great  progress.  It  helped 
me  so  much  to  be  with  him  that  he  seemed  to  have  left  my  soul 
ablaze  with  a  new  fire  of  longing  to  begin  to  serve  the  Lord  all 
over  again.  O  my  Jesus,  how  much  a  soul  can  do  when  ablaze 
with  Thy  love !  What  great  value  we  ought  to  set  on  it  and  how 
we  should  beseech  the  Lord  to  allow  it  to  remain  in  this  life !  Any- 
one who  has  this  love  should  follow  after  such  souls  if  he  is  able. 

For  one  who  has  this  sickness  it  is  a  great  thing  to  find  another 
stricken  by  it  too.  It  is  a  great  comfort  to  him  to  see  that 
he  ist  not  alone:  the  two  are  of  mutual  help  in  their  sufferings 
and  their  deservings.  They  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder,  ready 
for  God's  sake  to  risk  a  thousand  lives  and  longing  for  a  chance 
to  lose  them.  They  are  like  soldiers  who,  in  order  to  win  booty 
and  grow  rich  upon  it,  are  spoiling  for  war,  realizing  that  without 
fighting  they  can  never  become  rich  at  all.  Toiling  in  this  way, 
in  fact,  is  their  profession.  Oh,  what  a  great  thing  it  is,  when  the 
Lord  gives  this  light,  to  know  how  much  we  are  gaining  in  suffer- 
ing for  His  sake!  But  we  cannot  properly  understand  this  until 
we  have  given  up  everything;  for,  if  there  is  a  single  thing  to  which 
a  man  clings,  it  is  a  sign  that  he  sets  some  value  upon  it;  and  if  he 
sets  some  value  upon  it,  it  will  naturally  distress  him  to  give  it 
up,  and  so  everything  will  be  imperfection  and  loss.  "He  who 
follows  what  is  lost  is  himself  lost":  that  saying  is  appropriate 
here.  And  what  greater  loss,  what  greater  blindness,  what  greater 
misfortune  is  there  than  to  set  a  great  price  on  what  is  nothing? 

Returning,  then,  to  what  I  was  saying:  As  I  looked  at  that  soul 
I  rejoiced  exceedingly  and  I  think  the  Lord  was  desirous  that  I 
should  have  a  dear  view  of  the  treasures  He  had  laid  up  in  it.  So 
when  I  became  aware  of  the  favour  which  He  had  done  me  in 
bringing  this  to  pass  through  my  intervention,  I  realized  how 
unworthy  I  was  of  it.  I  prized  the  favours  which  the  Lord  had 
bestowed  upon  him  and  considered  them  more  my  own  than 
if  they  had  actually  been  granted  to  me,  and  I  praised  the  Lord 
repeatedly  when  I  found  that  His  Majesty  was  fulfilling  my 
desires  and  had  heard  my  prayer  that  He  would  awaken  such 
persons  as  this.  And  then  my  soul,  in  such  a  state  that  it  could 
not  endure  so  much  joy,  went  out  from  itself,  and  lost  itself 
for  its  own  greater  gain.  It  abandoned  its  meditations,  andr 


240  LIFE  [CHAP. 

as  it  heard  that  Divine  language,  which  seems  to  have  been  that 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  I  fell  into  a  deep  rapture,  which  caused  me 
almost  to  lose  my  senses,  though  it  lasted  but  for  a  short  time.  I 
saw  Christ,  in  the  greatest  majesty  and  glory,  manifesting  His 
great  satisfaction  at  what  had  been  taking  place.  This  He  told 
me,  and  said  that  He  wanted  me  to  realize  clearly  that  He  was 
always  present  at  conversations  of  this  kind,  for  He  was  very 
pleased  when  people  found  their  delight  in  talking  of  Him. 

At  another  time,  when  I  was  a  long  way  from  here,1  I  saw 
him  being  carried  up  to  the  angels  in  great  glory.2  By  this  vision  I 
understood  that  his  soul  was  making  great  progress,  as  indeed  it 
was.  For  a  cruel  slander  against  his  reputation  had  been  started 
by  a  person  whom  he  had  helped  a  great  deal  and  to  whose 
reputation  and  to  whose  soul  he  had  rendered  a  great  service; 
and  he  had  endured  this  very  happily  and  had  done  other  things 
which  tended  greatly  to  the  service  of  God  and  had  undergone 
other  persecutions.  I  do  not  think  it  suitable  to  say  more  about 
this  just  now,  but  Your  Reverence  knows  about  it  all,  and  in  the 
future,  if  you  think  well,  it  can  all  be  set  down  to  the  glory  of  the 
Lord.  All  the  prophecies  about  this  house  to  which  I  have  already 
referred,  and  others  of  which  I  shall  speak  later,  concerning  both 
this  house  and  other  matters,  have  been  fulfilled.  Some  the  Lord 
made  to  me  three  years  before  they  became  known ;  others,  before 
that  time,  and  others,  again,  since.  And  I  always  mentioned 
them  to  my  confessor  and  to  that  widow  who  was  a  friend  of 
mine,  and  with  whom,  as  I  said  before,  I  was  permitted  to 
discuss  them.  She,  I  have  learned,  repeated  them  to  other  people, 
who  know  that  I  am  not  lying.  God  grant  that  I  may  never,  in 
any  matter,  speak  anything  but  the  whole  truth,  especially  on 
so  serious  a  subject  as  this  1 

Once,  when  I  was  in  great  distress  because  a  brother-in-law 
of  mine3  had  died  suddenly  without  being  careful4  to  make  his 
confession,  I  was  told  in  prayer  that  my  sister,  too,  would  die  in 
the  same  way  and  that  I  must  go  to  see  her  and  get  her  to  prepare 
for  death.  I  told  my  confessor  about  this,  but  he  would  not  let 
me  go;  I  then  heard  the  same  thing  several  times  more.  When  he 
found  that  this  was  so,  he  told  me  to  go,  as  no  harm  could  possibly 
come  of  it.  She  lived  in  a  village,5  and  I  went  there  without 
telling  her  the  reason  but  giving  her  what  light  I  could  about 

1 1.e ,  from  Avila. 

8  According  to  Grecian,  this  was  P.  Garcia  de  Toledo. 

8  Don  Martin  de  Guzman  y  Barnentos,  husband  of  the  Saint's  half-sister  Maria 
(p.  22,  above). 

4  Thus  St.  Teresa  in  the  autograph;  but  P.  B£nez  emended  the  phrase  so  that  it 
read:  "without  having  had  the  opportunity  "  The  early  editions  follow  the  author, 
but  later  editors  have  tended  to  adopt  the  emendation. 

5  Cf.  p.  1 8,  n.  2,  above. 


XXXIV]  LIFE  241 

everything.  I  got  her  to  go  to  confession  very  frequently  and 
always  to  think  of  her  soul's  profit.  She  was  very  good  and  did 
as  I  said.  Some  four  or  five  years  after  she  had  adopted  these 
habits  and  begun  to  pay  great  heed  to  her  conscience,  she  died 
in  such  circumstances  that  nobody  could  come  to  see  her  or  hear 
her  confession.  So  it  was  a  fortunate  thing  that,  following  her  usu£l 
custom,  she  had  made  her  last  confession  little  more  than  a  week 
previously.  When  I  heard  of  her  death,  it  made  me  very  happy 
to  think  that  she  had  done  so.  She  remained  only  a  very  short 
time  in  purgatory. 

It  could  hardly  have  been  a  week  later  when,  just  after  I  had 
communicated,  the  Lord  appeared  to  me  and  was  pleased  to  let 
me  see  her  as  He  was  taking  her  to  glory.  During  all  those  years 
between  the  time  when  the  Lord  spoke  to  me  and  the  time  of  her 
death,  neither  my  companion1  nor  I  forgot  what  I  had  been  told, 
and,  when  she  died,  my  companion  came  to  me  in  amazement 
at  the  way  in  which  it  had  all  been  fulfilled.  God  be  praised  for 
ever,  Who  takes  such  care  of  souls  so  that  they  are  not  lost! 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

Continues  the  same  subject — the  foundation  of  this  house  of  our  glorious 
Father  Saint  Joseph.  Tells  how  the  Lord  brought  it  about  that 
holy  poverty  should  be  observed  there  and  why  she  left  that  lady, 
and  describes  several  other  things  that  happened  to  her. 

While  I  was  with  this  lady  whom  I  have  mentioned,  and  with 
whom  I  stayed  for  over  six  months,2  the  Lord  brought  it  about 
that  a  beata*  of  our  Order,  living  more  than  seventy  leagues 
from  here,  heard  of  me,  and,  happening  to  come  this  way,  went 
some  leagues  out  of  her  road  to  talk  to  me. 4  The  Lord  had 
inspired  her,  in  the  same  year  and  month  as  He  had  inspired  me, 

xDona  Guiomar  de  Ulloa. 

2  From  January  1562  until  the  beginning  of  July  of  the  same  year. 

3  [A  beata  is  a  somewhat  vague  term  denoting  a  woman  who  either  lives  in  a  religious 
community  without  being  professed  or  keeping  the  full  rule  or  lives  under  a  rule  in 
hen  own  house,  wearing  a  distinctive  habit  but  belonging  to  no  community.] 

*  Her  name  was  Marfa  de  Jesus.  Born  at  Granada  in  1522,  she  had  been  left  a 
widow  when  very  young  and  had  entered  the  convent  of  the  Galced  Carmelites  of 
her  native  city.  But,  believing  that  God  had  called  her  to  found  a  reformed  house 
of  the  Order,  she  left  the  convent  before  making  her  profession  and  journeyed  with 
some  friends  to  Rome,  where  she  eventually  obtained  a  Brief  for  this  purpose.  Her 
attempts  to  make  a  foundation  in  Granada  failed  and  it  was  then  that  she  came 
to  see  St.  Teresa,  as  described  in  this  chapter.  Later  Dona  Leonor  de  Mascarenas 
gave  her  a  house  at  Alcald  de  Henares  and  the  convent  was  founded  in  July 


242  LIFE  [CHAP. 

to  found  another  convent  of  this  Order;  and,  as  He  had  given 
her  this  desire,  she  sold  all  she  had  and  walked  barefoot  to  Rome 
to  obtain  the  necessary  patent. 

She  is  a  woman  greatly  devoted  to  penance  and  prayer  and 
the  Lord  granted  her  many  favours.  Our  Lady  had  appeared 
to  her  and  ordered  her  to  undertake  this  task.  She  had  done  so 
much  more  than  I  in  the  service  of  the  Lord  that  I  was  ashamed 
to  be  in  her  presence-  She  showed  me  the  patents  which  she  had 
brought  from  Rome  and  during  the  fortnight  she  was  with  me 
we  made  our  plans  as  to  how  these  convents  were  to  be  founded. 
Until  I  spoke  to  her,  it  had  not  come  to  my  notice  that  our  Rule, 
before  its  severity  became  mitigated,  had  ordered  us  to  possess 
nothing,1  and  I  had  had  no  idea  of  founding  a  convent  without 
revenue,  my  intention  being  that  we  should  have  no  anxiety  about 
necessaries,  and  I  did  not  think  of  all  the  anxieties  which  are 
entailed  by  the  holding  of  possessions.  Though  unable  to  read, 
this  blessed  woman  had  been  taught  by  the  Lord,  and  so  she 
knew  quite  well  what  I  did  not,  despite  my  having  so  often 
perused  the  Constitutions.  And  when  she  told  me  this,  I  thought 
it  a  good  idea,  though  I  was  afraid  that  no  one  would  ever  agree 
with  me,  but  say  I  was  being  ridiculous  and  tell  me  not  to  do 
things  which  would  cause  suffering  to  others.  If  I  alone  were 
concerned,  nothing  whatever  should  hold  me  back:  on  the 
contrary,  it  would  be  a  great  joy  to  me  to  think  I  was  keeping 
the  counsels  of  Christ  our  Lord,  for  His  Majesty  had  already 
given  me  great  desires  for  poverty.  For  my  own  part,  I  had 
never  doubted  that  poverty  was  the  soundest  basis  for  a  foundation. 
I  had  been  wishing  for  days  that  it  were  possible  for  a  person  in 
my  state  of  life  to  go  about  begging  for  love  of  God  and  have  no 
house  or  any  other  possession.  But  I  was  afraid  that,  if  others 
were  not  given  these  desires  by  the  Lord,  they  would  live  in  a 
state  of  discontent,  and  also  that  the  thing  would  cause  some 
distraction.  I  had  seen  a  number  of  poor  monasteries  in  which 
there  was  no  great  degree  of  recollection,  and  it  had  not  occurred 
to  me  that  their  distraction  was  not  due  to  their  poverty,  but  that 
their  poverty  was  the  result  of  their  not  being  recollected.  Dis- 
traction does  not  make  people  richer  and  God  never  fails  those 
who  serve  Him.  In  short,  my  faith  was  weak,  whereas  the  faith 
of  this  servant  of  God  was  not. 

I  sought  the  opinions  of  a  great  many  people  with  regard  to 
all  this  but  found  hardly  anyone  who  shared  my  own — neither 
my  confessor  nor  the  learned  men  whom  I  consulted  about  it. 

1  Chap  VI  of  the  Rule  says: — "NuBus  fratrum  sibi  aliquid  propfium  csse  dicat, 
sed  sint  vobis  omnia  commuma."  Gregory  IX,  by  a  Brief  dated  April  6,  1229,  forbade 
the  Carmelites  to  possess  houses,  lands  or  money. 


XXXV]  LIFE  243 

They  put  before  me  so  many  contrary  arguments  that  I  did  not 
know  what  to  do;  for,  now  that  I  had  learned  the  nature  of  the 
Rule  and  realized  that  its  way  was  that  of  greater  perfection, 
I  could  not  persuade  myself  to  allow  the  house  to  have  any 
revenue.  True,  they  sometimes  convinced  me;  but,  when  I 
betook  myself  to  prayer  again  and  looked  at  Christ  hanging 
poor  and  naked  upon  the  Cross,  I  felt  I  could  not  bear  to  be  rich. 
So  I  besought  Him  with  tears  to  bring  it  about  that  I  might 
become  as  poor  as  He. 

I  found  that  the  possession  of  revenue  entailed  so  many  incon- 
veniences, and  was  such  a  cause  of  unrest,  and  even  of  distraction, 
that  I  kept  on  disputing  about  it  with  learned  men.  I  wrote  to 
that  effect  to  the  Dominican  friar  who  was  helping  us, l  and  he 
answered  me  in  a  letter  two  sheets  long,  full  of  refutations  and 
theology;  in  this  he  told  me  that  he  had  made  a  close  study  of  the 
subject,  and  tried  to  dissuade  me  from  my  project.  I  replied  that 
I  had  no  wish  to  make  use  of  theology  and  should  not  thank  him 
for  his  learning  in  this  matter  if  it  was  going  to  keep  me  from 
following  my  vocation,  from  being  true  to  the  vow  of  poverty 
that  I  had  made,  and  from  observing  Christ's  precepts  with  due 
perfection.  If  I  found  anyone  who  would  help  me,  I  was  delighted. 
The  lady  with  whom  I  was  staying2  was  of  great  assistance  to  me 
here.  Some  told  me  at  the  very  beginning  that  they  approved  of 
my  plan,  but  afterwards,  on  looking  into  it  farther,  found  so 
many  disadvantages  in  it  that  they  once  more  urged  me  strongly 
to  give  it  up.  I  told  them  that,  though  they  had  changed  their 
opinions  so  quickly,  I  preferred  to  keep  mine. 

It  was  at  this  time  that,  through  my  entreaties,  for  the  lady 
had  never  seen  him,  the  Lord  was  pleased  that  the  saintly  Fray 
Peter  of  Alcantara  should  come  to  her  house.  As  one  who  was  a 
great  lover  of  poverty  and  had  practised  it  for  so  many  years, 
he  knew  how  much  wealth  there  was  in  it,  and  so  he  was  a  great 
help  to  me  and  told  me  that  I  must  cany  out  my  plan  without 
fail.  Once  I  had  his  opinion  and  help,  which,  as  he  had  had  the 
advantage  of  a  long  experience,  none  was  better  able  to  give,  I 
resolved  to  seek  no  further  opinions. 

One  day,  when  I  was  earnestly  commending  my  plan  to  God, 
the  Lord  told  me  that  I  must  on  no  account  fail  to  found  the 
convent  in  poverty,  for  that  was  His  Father's  will,  and  His  own 
will,  and  He  would  help  me.  I  was  in  a  deep  rapture  at  the  time, 
the  effects  of  which  were  so  marked  that  I  could  not  possibly 
doubt  that  it  had  been  of  God.  On  another  occasion  He  told  me 
that  money  led  only  to  confusion,  and  said  other  things  in  praise 

1  P.  Ibdnez,  then  at  Trianos.   (Gf.  p.  226,  n.  i,  above.) 
a  Dona  Guiomar  de  Ulloa. 


244  LIFE  [CHAP. 

of  poverty,  and  assured  me  that  none  would  ever  lack  the  neces- 
saries of  life  if  they  served  Him.  For  my  own  part,  as  I  say, 
I  was  never  afraid  of  being  without  these  things.  The  Lord  also 
changed  the  heart  of  the  Presentado3 — I  mean,  of  the  Dominican 
friar — who,  as  I  have  related,  had  written  and  told  me  not  to 
make  the  foundation  unless  I  had  money.  I  was  delighted  at 
hearing  this  and  at  having  the  support  of  such  opinions;  I  thought 
I  had  nothing  less  than  all  the  riches  in  the  world  when  I  had 
resolved  to  live  only  on  the  love  of  God. 

It  was  about  then  that  my  Provincial2  revoked  his  order  and 
released  me  from  the  obligation  of  obedience  which  he  had  Ifcid 
upon  me  and  which  kept  me  in  the  place  where  I  then  was: 
he  now  left  me  free  to  do  as  I  liked,  so  that  I  could  go  away  for 
a  time,  if  I  wanted  to  do  so,  and,  if  I  wanted  to  stay  where  I  was, 
I  could  do  that  too.  Just  at  that  time  there  was  to  be  an  election 
in  my  convent,  and  I  was  warned  that  many  of  the  nuns  wanted 
to  lay  upon  me  the  responsibility  of  being  their  superior.  The 
very  thought  of  this  was  such  a  torment  to  me  that,  though  I 
was  resolved  and  prepared  to  undergo  any  martyrdom  for  God's 
sake,  I  could  not  possibly  persuade  myself  to  accept  this.  For, 
apart  from  the  great  labour  it  would  involve,  on  account  of  the 
large  number  of  nuns  there  were,  and  for  other  reasons  (such 
as  tike  fact  that  I  was  never  fond  of  such  work,  and  had  not  wanted 
to  hold  any  office — indeed,  I  had  always  declined  to  do  so),  I 
thought  it  would  involve  my  conscience  in  grave  peril,  and  so  I 
praised  God  that  I  was  not  there.  I  wrote  to  my  friends  and  asked 
them  not  to  vote  for  me. 

Just  as  I  was  feeling  very  glad  that  I  should  not  be  getting 
mixed  up  in  that  commotion,  the  Lord  told  me  that  I  must  on 
no  account  fail  to  go :  if  I  wanted  a  cross,  there  was  a  good  one 
all  ready  for  me  and  I  was  not  to  reject  it  but  go  on  bravely, 
for  He  would  help  me;  so  I  was  to  go  at  once.  I  was  terribly 
worried  and  did  nothing  but  weep,  for  I  thought  that  this  cross 
meant  that  I  was  to  become  Superior,  and,  as  I  say,  I  could  not 
persuade  myself  that  that  would  do  the  least  good  to  my  soul  or 
see  any  way  in  which  it  possibly  could.  I  told  my  confessor3 
about  it.  He  ordered  me  to  see  at  once  about  going,  saying  that 
this  was  clearly  the  way  of  greatest  perfection;  but  he  added  that, 
as  the  weather  was  very  hot  and  it  would  suffice  if  I  got  there  for 
the  election,  I  could  wait  for  a  few  days  lest  the  journey  should 
do  me  any  harm.  But  the  Lord  had  disposed  it  otherwise  and  I 

1  This  title,  here  given  to  P,  Ibanez,  is  an  academic  one,  equivalent  in  the  Order 
of  St.  Dominic  to  that  of  Licentiate  [in  English,  to  Bachelor  of  Arts,  Divinity,  etc.]. 

1  P.  Angel  de  Salazar.  He  ordered  St.  Teresa  to  return  from  Toledo  to  Avila  to  be 
present  at  the  election  of  a  Prioress. 

*  P.  Pedro  Domenech,  Rector  of  the  Toledo  house  of  the  Society  of  Jesus. 


XXXV]  LIFE  245 

had  to  leave  then  and  there,  so  great  were  my  inward  restlessness 
and  my  inability  to  pray  and  my  fear  that  I  was  being  false  to 
the  Lord's  command,  and  that  I  would  not  go  and  offer  myself 
for  the  work  because  I  was  comfortable  and  at  my  ease  where  I 
was.  I  felt  that  I  was  rendering  God  nothing  but  lip-service. 
Why,  if  I  had  the  chance  of  living  a  life  of  greater  perfection, 
should  I  not  take  it?  If  I  had  to  die,  let  me  die.  Together  with 
these  thoughts  came  an  oppression  of  soul  and  the  Lord  took  all 
the  joy  out  of  my  prayer.  In  fact,  I  found  myself  in  such  torment 
that  I  begged  the  lady  to  be  good  enough  to  let  me  leave,  and, 
when  my  confessor  saw  the  state  I  was  in,  he  told  me  to  do  so: 
God  had  moved  him  just  as  He  had  moved  me. 

She  was  very  sorry  that  I  was  leaving  her,  and  this  was  a 
further  trial,  for  it  had  cost  her  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and 
she  had  practised  all  kinds  of  importunities,  to  obtain  permission 
from  the  Provincial  for  me  to  come.  I  thought  it  a  very  great 
thing  that  she  should  agree  to  my  going,  considering  how  she  felt 
about  it,  but  as  she  was  a  most  God-fearing  woman  and  I  told 
her  that  if  I  went  I  might  be  doing  a  great  service  to  God,  as  well  as 
giving  her  many  other  reasons,  and  held  out  the  hope  that  I 
might  possibly  come  and  see  her  again,  she  acquiesced  in  it, 
though  with  the  greatest  regret. 

For  myself,  I  now  no  longer  regretted  going;  for,  as  I  realized 
that  this  would  be  conducive  to  greater  perfection  and  to  the 
service  of  God,  and  as  pleasing  Him  always  gives  me  pleasure,  I 
bore  my  distress  at  leaving  this  lady,  at  seeing  how  sorry  she  was 
about  it,  and  also  at  leaving  others  to  whom  I  was  greatly  in- 
debted— in  particular,  my  confessor,  a  priest  of  the  Society  of 
Jesus,  with  whom  I  got  on  very  well.  The  greater  was  the  com- 
fort which  I  sacrificed  for  the  Lord's  sake,  the  happier  I  was  to 
forgo  it.  I  could  not  understand  how  this  was  possible,  for  I 
realized  clearly  that  I  was  being  moved  by  two  contrary  feelings : 
that  is  to  say,  I  was  rejoicing  and  being  glad  and  finding  comfort 
in  what  was  oppressing  my  soul,  for  I  was  calmed  and  com- 
forted and  had  the  opportunity  of  spending  many  hours  in 
prayer.  I  saw  that  I  was  about  to  fling  myself  into  a  fire,  for  this 
the  Lord  had  already  told  me,  and  that  I  was  going  to  bear  a 
heavy  cross,  though  I  never  thought  it  would  be  as  heavy  as  I 
afterwards  found  it  to  be.  Yet,  in  spite  of  all  this,  I  went  off  gladly, 
only  chagrined  that,  since  it  was  the  Lord's  will  that  I  should 
enter  the  battle,  I  was  not  doing  so  immediately.  Thus  was  His 
Majesty  sending  me  strength  and  establishing  it  in  my  weakness.1 

As  I  say,  I  could  not  understand  how  this  was  possible.  But 
I  thought  of  this  comparison.  If  I  possess  a  jewel,  or  something 

1  [An  apparent  reference  to  2  Corinthians  xii,  9.] 


246  LIFE  [CHAP. 

which  gives  me  great  pleasure,  and  if  I  happen  to  discover  that 
some  person  wants  it  whom  I  love  better  than  myself,  and  I  am 
more  anxious  for  her  pleasure  than  for  my  own  comfort,  it  will 
give  me  greater  happiness  to  go  without  it  than  it  has  given  me 
to  have  it,  because  I  shall  be  affording  that  person  pleasure. 
And  as  the  pleasure  of  pleasing  her  transcends  my  pleasure  in 
having  the  jewel  myself,  my  regret  at  no  longer  having  it,  or  any- 
thing else  that  I  like,  and  at  losing  the  pleasure  it  gave  me,  will 
disappear.  In  the  same  way,  although  I  wanted  to  feel  sorry 
when  I  found  that  I  was  leaving  people  who  so  much  regretted 
losing  me,  especially  as  I  am  such  a  grateful  person  by  tempera- 
ment, I  could  not  feel  sorry  any  more,  however  hard  I  tried, 
though  on  any  other  occason  it  would  have  been  enough  to 
cause  me  great  distress. 

It  was  so  important  for  the  affairs  of  this  house  that  I  should  not 
delay  for  another  day  that  I  do  not  know  how  they  would  have 
been  settled  had  I  waited.  Oh,  the  greatness  of  God!  I  am  often 
astounded  when  I  think  about  this  and  realize  how  specially 
anxious  His  Majesty  was  to  help  me  carry  out  the  business  of  this 
little  corner  of  God's  house  (for  such,  I  believe,  it  is)  and  this 
dwelling  in  which  His  Majesty  takes  His  delight — once,  when  I 
was  in  prayer,  He  told  me  that  this  house  was  the  paradise  of  His 
delight.  So  it  seems  that  His  Majesty  had  chosen  the  souls  whom 
He  has  drawn  to  Himself  and  in  whose  company  I  am  living, 
feeling  very,  very  much  ashamed  of  myself,  for  I  could  never 
have  expected  to  have  souls  like  these  for  this  plan  of  living  in  a 
state  of  such  strict  enclosure  and  poverty  and  prayer.  Such  is  the 
joy  and  happiness  of  their  lives  that  each  of  them  thinks  herself 
unworthy  to  have  merited  coming  to  such  a  place.  This  is 
particularly  true  of  some,  whom  the  Lord  has  called  from  all  the 
vanity  and  parade  of  the  world,  in  which,  according  to  its  own 
standards,  they  might  have  been  happy.  But  here  the  Lord  has  so 
multiplied  their  happiness  that  they  clearly  recognize  that  in 
place  of  the  one  thong  they  have  forsaken  He  has  given  them 
an  hundredfold,  and  they  are  never  tired  of  giving  His  Majesty 
thanks.  Others  He  has  changed  from  good  to  better.  To  the  young 
He  gives  fortitude  and  knowledge  so  that  they  may  desire  nothing 
else  and  may  learn  that,  even  from  an  earthly  standpoint,  to  live 
far  from  everything  that  has  to  do  with  this  life  is  to  live  with  the 
maximum  of  repose.  To  those  who  are  older  and  whose  health  is 
poor  He  gives  strength,  as  He  has  done  in  the  past,  to  endure  the 
same  austerity  and  penance  as  all  the  rest. 

O  my  Lord,  how  abundantly  dost  Thou  manifest  Thy  power! 
There  is  no  need  to  seek  reasons  for  what  Thou  wiliest,  for  Thou 
dost  transcend  all  natural  reason  and  make  all  things  possible, 


XXXV]  LIFE  1247 

thus  showing  clearly  that  we  have  only  to  love  Thee  truly,  and 
truly  to  forsake  everything  for  Thee,  and  Thou,  my  Lord,  wilt 
make  everything  easy.  It  is  well  said,  with  regard  to  this,  that 
"Thou  feignest  labour  in  Thy  law",1  for  I  do  not  see,  Lord,  and 
I  do  not  know  how  the  road  that  leads  to  Thee  can  be  "narrow".2 
To  me  it  seems  a  royal  road,  not  a  pathway;  a  road  along  which 
anyone  who  sets  out  upon  it  in  earnest  travels  securely.  Mountain 
passes  and  rocks  that  might  fall  upon  him — I  mean,  occasions  of 
sin — are  far  distant.  What  I  call  a  path,  and  a  cruel  path,  and  a 
really  narrow  road,  is  that  which  has  on  one  side  a  deep  gorge 
into  which  one  may  fall,  and  on  the  other  side  a  precipice: 
hardly  has  a  man  relaxed  his  care  than  he  falls  over  it  and  is 
dashed  to  pieces. 

He  who  truly  loves  Thee,  my  God,  travels  by  a  broad  and  a 
royal  road  and  travels  securely.  It  is  far  away  from  any  precipice, 
and  hardly  has  such  a  man  stumbled  in  the  slightest  degree  when 
Thou,  Lord,  givest  him  Thy  hand.  One  fall — and  even  many 
falls,  if  he  loves  Thee  and  not  the  things  of  the  world — will  not  be 
enough  to  lead  him  to  perdition:  he  will  be  travelling  along 
the  valley  of  humility.  I  cannot  understand  why  it  is  that  people 
are  afraid  to  set  out  upon  the  way  of  perfection.  May  the  Lord, 
for  His  name's  sake,  make  us  realize  how  unsafe  we  are  amid  such 
manifest  perils  as  beset  us  when  we  follow  the  crowd,  and  how 
our  true  safety  lies  in  striving  to  press  ever  forward  on.  the  way  of 
God,  Our  eyes  must  be  fixed  upon  Him  and  we  must  not  be 
afraid  that  this  Sun  of  Justice  will  set,  or  that  He  will 
allow  us  to  travel  by  night,  and  so  be  lost,  unless  we  first  forsake 
Him. 

People  are  not  afraid  to  walk  among  lions,  each  of  which  seems 
to  be  trying  to  tear  them  to  pieces- — I  mean  among  honours, 
delights  and  pleasures  (as  the  world  calls  them)  of  that  kind. 
The  devil  seems  to  be  frightening  us  with  scarecrows  here. 
A  thousand  times  have  I  been  amazed  by  this;  fain  would  I  weep 
ten  thousand  times,  till  I  could  weep  no  more,  and  fain  would  I 
cry  aloud  to  tell  everyone  of  my  great  blindness  and  wickedness, 
in  the  hope  that  this  might  be  of  some  avail  to  open  their  eyes. 
May  He  open  them  Who  alone  of  His  goodness  can  do  so,  and 
may  He  never  allow  mine  to  become  blind  again.  Amen. 

1  Psalm  xciii,  20  [A.V.,  xciv,  20]. 
s  St.  Matthew  vii,  14. 


248  LIFE  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

Continues  the  subject  already  begun  and  describes  the  completion  of  the 
foundation  of  this  convent  of  the  glorious  Saint  Joseph,  and  the  great 
opposition  and  numerous  persecutions  which  the  nuns  had  to  endure 
after  taking  the  habit,  and  the  great  trials  and  temptations  which 
she  suffered,  and  how  the  Lord  delivered  her  from  everything  vic- 
toriously, to  His  glory  and  praise. 

After  leaving  that  city  I  went  on  my  way  very  happily,  resolved 
to  suffer  with  the  greatest  willingness  whatever  it  might  please  the 
Lord  to  send  me.  On  the  very  night  of  my  arrival  in  these  parts 
there  arrived  our  patent  for  the  convent  and  the  Brief  from 
Rome.1  I  was  astonished  at  this,  and  so  were  those  who  knew  how 
the  Lord  had  hastened  my  coming  here,  when  they  found  how 
necessary  it  had  proved  to  be  and  how  the  Lord  had  brought  me 
here  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  For  here  I  found  the  Bishop  and  the 
saintly  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara,  and  another  gentleman,2  a  great 
servant  of  God,  in  whose  house  this  saintly  man  was  staying — he 
was  one  with  whom  God's  servants  could  always  find  hospitality. 

Between  them,  these  two  persuaded  the  Bishop  to  sanction 
the  foundation  of  the  convent.  This  was  by  no  means  easy,3 
as  it  was  to  be  founded  in  poverty,  but  he  was  so  much  drawn  to 
people  whom  he  saw  determined  to  serve  the  Lord  that  he  at 
once  inclined  to  the  idea  of  helping  it.  The  whole  thing  was  due 
to  the  approval  of  this  saintly  old  man  and  the  way  he  urged 
first  one  person  and  then  another  to  come  to  our  aid.  If,  as  I  have 
already  said,  I  had  not  arrived  at  this  particular  moment,  I 
cannot  see  how  it  could  have  been  done,  for  this  saintly  man 
was  here  only  for  a  few  days — not  more  than  a  week,  I  believe — 
and  during  that  time  he  was  very  ill :  not  long  afterwards  the  Lord 
took  him  to  Himself.  It  seems  as  if  His  Majesty  had  prolonged  his 
life  until  this  business  was  settled,  for  he  had  for  some  time  been 
in  very  poor  health — I  fancJy  for  over  two  years. 

1  This  Brief  of  Pius  IV  was  dated  February  7,  1562.  It  would  have  been  the  begin- 
ning of  July  when  it  reached  Avila. 

2  Probably  not  Don  Francisco  de  Salcedo,  as  is  generally  supposed,  but  Don  Juan 
Bldzquez,  father  of  the  Count  of  Uceda,  as  it  was  he  with  whom  St  Peter  of  Alcdntara 
usually  stayed  when  at  Avila. 

3  It  certainly  was  not.  When  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara  reached  Avila,  the  Bishop  was 
away.  Fray  Peter  went  to  the  village  where  he  was  staying  to  see  him  and  found  him 
completely  opposed  to  the,*  establishment  of  a  convent  without  an  endowment.    He 
persuaded  him,  however,  to  come  back  to  Avila  and  visit  St.  Teresa  at  the  Incarnation, 
and  as  a  result  of  the  interview  he  withdrew  all  his  objections  and  became  her  staunch 
supporter.  * 


XXXVI]  LIFE  249 

Everything  was  done  with  great  secrecy:  had  it  been  otherwise, 
nothing  could  have  been  done  at  all,  for,  as  appeared  later,  the 
people  were  opposed  to  the  plan.  The  Lord  had  ordained  that  a 
brother-in-law  of  mine1  should  fall  ill,  and,  his  wife  not  being 
with  him,  should  be  in  such  need  of  me  that  I  was  given  leave  to 
go  and  stay  with  him.  This  prevented  anything  from  being 
discovered,  and,  though  a  few  people  must  have  been  rather 
suspicious,  they  did  not  think  there  was  anything  in  it.  The 
remarkable  thing  was  that  his  illness  lasted  only  for  just  the  time 
we  needed  for  our  negotiations,  and,  when  it  was  necessary  for 
him  to  be  better  so  that  I  could  be  free  again  and  he  could  go  away 
and  leave  the  house,  the  Lord  at  once  restored  him  to  health, 
and  he  was  amazed  at  it. 

What  with  one  person  and  what  with  another,  I  had  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  in  getting  the  foundation  sanctioned.  Then  Siere 
was  my  patient,  and  there  were  the  workmen — for  the  house  had 
to  be  got  ready  very  quickly,  so  that  it  would  be  suitable  for  a 
convent,  and  there  was  a  great  deal  which  had  to  be  done  to  it. 
My  companion2  was  not  here,  for  we  thought  it  advisable  that  she 
should  be  away  so  that  the  secret  might  be  the  better  kept.  I  saw 
that  speed  was  of  the  first  importance,  and  this  for  many  reasons, 
one  of  them  being  that  I  was  in  hourly  fear  of  being  sent  back  to 
my  own  convent.  So  many  were  the  trials  I  had  to  suffer  that  I 
began  to  wonder  if  this  was  my  cross,  though  I  thought  it  very 
much  lighter  than  the  heavy  one  which  I  had  understood  the  Lord 
to  say  I  should  have  to  bear. 

When  everything  had  been  arranged,  the  Lord  was  pleased  that 
some  of  the  sisters3  should  take  the  habit  on  Saint  Bartholomew's 
Day  and  on  that  day  too  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament  was  placed  in 
the  convent.  So  with  the  full  weight  of  authority  this  convent 

1  Don  Juan  de  Ovalle.   He  had  come  to  Toledo,  while  St.  Teresa  was  there,  to 
inform  her  of  the  progress  being  made  with  the  house  which  was  to  become  the 
Reformed  foundation,  and  had  intended  to  return  thence  to  Alba,  But  he  fell  ill  at 
Avila  on  his  way  back:  Dona  Juana  was,  of  course,  at  Alba.    It  was  in  these 
circumstances  that  St.  Teresa  was  allowed  to  go  and  stay  with  him,  which,  as  she 
suggests  in  the  text,  gave  her  the  opportunity  to  complete  the  preparations  for  the 
new  foundation  in  secrecy. 

2  Dona  Guiomar  was  away  at  Toro. 

3  These  were   Antoma  de  Henao  (del  Espiritu  Santo),  a  penitent  of  St.  Peter  of 
Alcantara;  Maria  de  la  Paz  (de  la  Cruz)  who  had  been  living  with  Dona  Guiomar 
de  Ulloa,  in  whose  house  she  first  met  St.  Teresa;  Ursula  de  Revilla  (de  los  Santos), 
recommended  to  the  Saint  by  Caspar  Daza;  Maria  de  Avila  (de  San  Jose"),  sister  of 
Julian  de  Avila.    The  names  given  in  brackets  are  those  taken  by  these  nuns  in 
religion    The  Bishop  deputed  P.  Daza  to  give  them  the  habit  St  Teresa  was  present, 
with  two  of  her  cousins  who  were  nuns  at  the  Incarnation  and  later  joined  the  Reform; 
and  others  who  attended  were  Gonzalo  de  Aranda,  Salcedo,  Ovalle  and  his  wife  and 
Julian  de  Avila.  The  Cathedral  Chapter  at  Avila  stall  celebrates  a  solemn  Mass,  at 
St.  Joseph^,  yearly,  on  St.  Bartholomew's  Day,  and  a  sermon  is  preached,  in  com- 
memoration of  the  historic  occasion. 


250  LIFE  [CHAP. 

of  our  most  glorious  father  Saint  Joseph  was  founded  in  the  year 
1562.  I  was  there  to  give  the  habit,  with  two  other  nuns  of  our  own 
house,  who  chanced  to  be  absent  from  it.  As  the  house  in  which 
the  convent  was  established  belonged  to  my  brother-in-law,  who, 
as  I  have  said,  had  bought  it  in  order  to  keep  the  matter  secret, 
I  was  there  by  special  permission,  and  I  did  nothing  without 
asking  the  opinion  of  learned  men,  lest  in  any  way  whatever  I 
should  act  against  obedience.  As  they  saw  what  benefits,  in 
numerous  ways,  were  being  conferred  upon  the  whole  Order, 
they  told  me  I  might  do  what  I  did,  although  it  was  being  done  in 
secret  and  I  was  keeping  it  from  my  superiors'  knowledge.  Had  they 
told  me  that  there  was  the  slightest  imperfection  in  this,  I  think 
I  would  have  given  up  a  thousand  convents,  let  alone  a  single  one. 
Of  that  I  am  sure;  for,  though  I  desired  to  make  the  foundation 
so  that  I  could  withdraw  more  completely  from  everything  and 
fulfil  my  profession  and  vocation  with  greater  perfection  and  in 
conditions  of  stricter  enclosure,  I  desired  it  only  with  the  proviso 
that  if  I  found  that  the  Lord  would  be  better  served  by  my  aban- 
doning it  entirely,  I  should  do  so,  as  I  had  done  on  a  former 
occasion,  with  complete  tranquillity  and  peace. 

Well,  it  was  like  being  in  Heaven  to  me  to  see  the  Most  Holy 
Sacrament  reserved,  and  to  find  ourselves  supporting  four  poor 
orphans  (for  they  were  taken  without  dowries)1  who  were  great 
servants  of  God.  From  the  very  beginning  we  tried  to  receive 
only  persons  whose  examples  might  serve  as  a  foundation  on 
which  we  could  effectively  build  up  our  plan  of  a  community 
of  great  perfection,  given  to  prayer,  and  carry  out  a  work  which 
I  believed  would  lead  to  the  Lord's  service  and  would  honour 
the  habit  of  His  glorious  Mother.  It  was  for  this  that  I  yearned. 
It  was  also  a  great  comfort  to  me  that  I  had  done  what  the  Lord 
had  so  often  commanded  me  and  that  there  was  one  more  church 
here  than  there  had  previously  been,  dedicated  to  my  glorious 
Father  Saint  Joseph.  Not  that  I  thought  I  had  done  anything 
of  all  this  myself;  I  never  thought  that  nor  do  I  now;  I  have  always 
known  that  it  was  done  by  the  Lord.  The  part  of  it  which  con- 
cerned me  was  so  full  of  imperfections  that  I  can  see  I  ought  to 
have  been  blamed  rather  than  thanked  for  it.  But  it  was  a  great 
comfort  to  me  to  see  that  in  such  a  great  work  as  this  His  Majesty 
had  taken  me,  wicked  as  I  am,  to  be  His  instrument.  I  was  so 
happy,  therefore,  that  I  was  quite  carried  away  by  the  intensity 
of  my  prayer. 

When  everything  was  finished — it  might  have  been   about 

1  The  Book  of  Professions  belonging  to  St.  Joseph's,  nevertheless,  shows  that,  on 
entering  the  convent,  Antonia  del  Espfritu  Santo  and  Ursula  de  los  Santos  brought 
sums  s&  alms. 


XXXVI]  LIFE  251 

three  or  four  hours  afterwards — the  devil  plunged  me  into  a 
spiritual  battle  again,  as  I  shall  now  relate-  He  made  me  wonder 
if  what  I  had  done  had  not  been  a  mistake  and  if  I  had  not  been 
acting  against  obedience  in  arranging  it  all  without  a  mandate 
from  the  Provincial.  It  had  certainly  occurred  to  me  that  the 
Provincial  would  be  rather  displeased  at  my  having  placed  the 
convent  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Ordinary,  without  having 
first  told  him  about  it,  though,  on  the  other  hand,  as  he  had  not 
been  prepared  to  sanction  it  and  I  had  not  altered  my  plans,  I 
had  also  imagined  that  he  might  not  trouble  about  it.  The  devil 
also  asked  me  if  people  living  under  so  strict  a  rule  would  be 
contented,  if  they  would  have  enough  to  eat,  and  if  the  whole 
thing  was  not  ridiculous — and  what  reason  had  I  to  mix  myself 
up  in  it,  seeing  that  I  was  already  in  a  convent  of  my  own?  All 
that  the  Lord  had  commanded  me,  all  the  opinions  I  had  been 
seeking  and  the  prayers  I  had  been  saying  almost  continuously 
for  over  two  years — all  these  things  fled  from  my  memory  as  if 
they  had  never  existed.  The  only  thing  I  remembered  now  was 
my  own  opinion;  and  faith,  and  all  the  virtues,  were  suspended 
in  me,  and  I  had  not  the  power  to  turn  any  of  them  into  practice 
or  to  defend  myself  against  all  these  blows. 

The  devil  would  also  put  it  to  me  how,  when  I  was  so  often 
indisposed,  I  could  want  to  endure  so  much  penance,  to  leave 
such  a  large,  pleasant  house,  where  I  had  always  been  so  happy, 
and  to  give  up  so  many  friends  for  people  in  this  other  convent 
who  would  perhaps  not  be  to  my  liking.  Then  he  suggested  that 
I  had  undertaken  a  great  deal  and  might  possibly  have  to 
abandon  it  as  hopeless.  Indeed,  he  said,  might  it  not  be  the  devil 
himself  who  had  induced  me  ttf  do  this,  in  order  to  deprive  me  of 
peace  and  quiet?  And,  once  I  was  inwardly  disturbed,  I  might 
be  unable  to  pray,  and  then  my  soul  would  be  lost.  Things  of 
this  kind  he  suggested  to  me  one  after  another,  till  I  found  it 
impossible  to  think  of  anything  else,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
plunged  my  soul  into  such  affliction  and  obscurity  and  darkness 
as  I  cannot  possibly  describe.,  When  I  found  myself  in  this  state, 
I  went  to  visit  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament,  though  I  felt  unable  to 
commend  myself  to  God.  I  really  think  my  anguish  was  like  a 
death  agony.  And  I  dared  not  discuss  it  with  anyone,  for  as  yet 
I  had  not  even  been  given  a  confessor. 

Oh,  God  help  me!  What  a  miserable  life  is  this!  There  is 
no  happiness  that  is  secure  and  nothing  that  does  not  change. 
Here  I  was,  such  a  short  time  ago,  thinking  I  would  not  exchange 
my  happiness  with  anyone  on  earth  and  now  the  very  cause  of  it 
was  tormenting  me  so  sorely  that  I  did  not  know  what  to  do  with 
myself.  Oh,  if  only  we  thought  carefully  about  the  things  of  life, 


252  LIFE  [CHAP. 

we  should  each  find  by  experience  how  little  either  of  happiness 

or  of  unhappiness  there  is  to  be  got  from  it !    I  certainly  think 

this  was  one  of  the  worst  times  that  I  have  ever  spent  in  my  life; 

my  spirit  seemed  to  be  divining  all  that  it  would  have  to  suffer, 

though  I  never  had  to  endure  as  much  suffering  as  this  would 

have  caused  me  had  it  lasted.   But  the  Lord  did  not  allow  His 

poor  servant  to  suffer  long:  in  all  my  tribulations  He  has  never 

failed  to  succour  me.   So  it  was  here.  He  gave  me  a  little  light,  so 

that  I  should  see  that  it  was  the  work  of  the  devil,  understand  the 

truth  and  know  that  this  was  simply  an  attempt  to  frighten  me 

with  falsehoods.  Then  I  began  to  remember  my  firm  resolutions  to 

serve  the  Lord  and  my  desires  to  suffer  for  Him.  I  realized  that, 

if  I  was  to  carry  them  out,  I  must  not  go  about  looking  for 

repose;  that,  if  I  was  to  have  trials,  this  was  the  way  to  win  merit; 

and  if  I  was  to  be  unhappy  and  used  my  unhappiness  in  order  to 

serve  God,  it  would  serve  me  as  a  kind  of  purgatory.1  What  was 

I  afraid  of?  I  asked  myself.   I  had  been  wanting  trials,  and  here 

were  some  good  ones,  and  the  greater  was  the  opposition  I  en* 

dured,  the  greater  would  be  my  gain.    Why  was  I  lacking  in 

courage  to  serve  Him  to  Whom  my  debt  was  so  great?  By  means 

of  these  and  other  reflections,  I  made  a  great  effort,  and  in  the 

presence  of  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament  promised  to  do  all  I  could 

to  get  permission  to  enter  this  new  house,  and,  if  I  could  do  so 

with  a  good  conscience,  to  make  a  vow  of  enclosure. 

The  instant  I  had  done  this,  the  devil  fled,  leaving  me  quiet 
and  happy;  and  I  remained  so  and  have  been  so  ever  since.  All 
the  rules  we  observe  in  this  house  concerning  enclosure,  penance 
and  other  things  of  that  sort  I  find  extremely  easy  and  there  are 
not  many  of  them.  So  great  is  my  happiness  that  I  sometimes 
wonder  what  earthly  choice  I  could  possibly  have  made  which 
would  have  been  more  delightful.  I  do  not  know  if  this  has  any- 
thing to  do  with  my  being  in  much  better  health  than  ever  before, 
or  whether,  because  it  is  right  and  necessary  that  I  should  do  as 
all  the  others  do,  the  Lord  is  being  pleased  to  comfort  me  by 
enabling  me  to  keep  the  Rule,  though  it  costs  me  something  to  do 
so.  But  my  ability  to  keep  it  astonishes  all  who  know  my  infirmities. 
Blessed  be  He  Who  gives  everything  and  in  Whose  strength  this 
can  be  done! 

After  this  conflict  I  was  sorely  fatigued,  but  I  laughed  at  the 
devil,  for  I  saw  clearly  that  it  was  his  doing.  As  I  have  never 
known  what  it  was  to  be  discontented  with  being  a  nun — not  for 
a  single  moment  of  the  twenty-eight  years  and  more  that  have 
gone  by  since  I  became  one — I  think  the  Lord  permitted  what 
had  taken  place  so  that  I  might  understand  what  a  great  favour 

1  [A  characteristic  play  upon  words-  cf.  Introduction,  p.  xxi,  above]. 


XXXVI]  LIFE  253 

He  had  granted  me  in  this,  and  from  what  torment  He  had 
delivered  me,  and  also  in  order  that,  if  I  ever  saw  anyone  in  that 
state,  I  should  not  be  alarmed,  but  should  be  sorry  for  her  and 
know  how  to  comfort  her.  When  this  was  over,  I  wanted  to  get 
a  little  rest  after  dinner.  (All  the  previous  night  I  had  had 
hardly  any  peace  of  mind;  and  on  several  of  the  preceding  nights 
I  had  been  continuously  troubled  and  worried;  so  that  during 
each  day  I  had  felt  worn  out.  For  now  what  we  had  done  be- 
came known  in  my  convent  and  in  the  city,  and  for  the  reasons 
I  have  given  there  was  a  great  deal  of  commotion — not,  it  seemed, 
without  some  cause.)  But  the  Superior1  sent  for  me  to  come  to  her 
immediately.  On  receiving  the  order,  I  went  at  once,  leaving 
my  nuns  terribly  upset.  I  was  well  aware  that  there  was  ample 
trouble  in  store  for  me,  but,  as  the  thing  was  now  done,  I  cared 
very  little  about  that.  I  prayed  to  the  Lord  and  begged  Him  to 
help  me  and  besought  my  father  Saint  Joseph  to  bring  me  back 
to  his  house.  I  offered  up  to  God  all  I  should  have  to  suffer,  very 
happy  at  having  some  suffering  to  offer  Him  and  some  service 
to  render.  I  went  in  the  belief  that  I  should  at  once  be  put 
in  prison.  This,  I  think,  would  have  been  a  great  joy  to  me, 
as  I  should  not  have  had  to  talk  to  anyone  and  should  have 
been  able  to  rest  for  a  little  and  be  alone — and  I  needed  that 
very  badly,  for  all  this  intercourse  with  people  had  worn  me  to 
pieces. 

When  I  got  there  and  gave  the  Superior  my  version  of  the 
affair,  she  relented  a  little,  and  they  all  sent  for  the  Provincial2 
and  laid  the  case  before  him.  He  came,  and  I  went  to  hear  his 
judgment  with  the  utmost  happiness,  thinking  that  there  would 
now  be  something  for  me  to  suffer  for  the  Lord.  I  could  not 
discover  that  I  had  committed  any  offence  either  against  His 
Majesty  or  against  the  Order — indeed,  I  was  striving  with  all 
my  might  to  strengthen  the  Order  and  to  do  this  I  would  willingly 
have  died,  for  my  whole  desire  was  that  its  Rule  should  be 
observed  with  all  perfection.  But  I  remembered  the  trial  of  Christ 
and  realized  that  this,  by  comparison,  was  nothing  at  all.  I 
acknowledged  my  fault,  as  if  I  had  acted  very  wrongly,  and  so  in 
fact  I  must  have  appeared  to  have  done  to  anyone  who  did  not 
know  all  the  reasons.  The  Provincial  gave  me  a  severe  rebuke, 
though  its  severity  was  less  than  would  have  been  justified  by  the 
report  which  many  people  had  given  him  of  my  delinquency.  I 
would  not  excuse  myself,  for  I  had  already  resolved  not  to  do  so, 

1  Grecian,  in  his  notes,  says  that  this  was  Dana  Isabel  de  Avila,  but  this  Prioress 
was  succeeded,  on  August  12,  1562,  by  Dona  Maria  Cimbr6n,  who  seems  therefore 
to  be  the  person  referred  to. 

1  P.  Angel  de  Salazar. 


254  LIFE  [CHAP. 

but  begged  him  to  forgive  me,  to  punish  me  and  not  to  be  annoyed 
*vith  me  any  longer. 

In  some  ways  I  knew  quite  well  that  they  were  condemning 
me  unjustly,  for  they  told  me  that  I  had  done  this  so  as  to  win 
esteem  for  myself,  to  get  well  known,  and  so  on.  But  in  other 
ways  it  was  clear  to  me  that  they  were  speaking  the  truth — in 
saying  that  I  was  more  wicked  than  other  nuns,  and  in  asking 
how,  if  I  had  not  kept  all  the  numerous  rules 'observed  in  that 
house,  I  could  consider  keeping  stricter  rules  in  another :  I  should  be 
scandalizing  the  people,  they  said,  and  setting  up  new  ideas.  None 
of  this  caused  me  the  least  trouble  or  distress,  though  I  gave  the 
impression  that  it  did,  lest  I  should  appear  to  be  making  light  of 
what  they  were  saying.  Finally,  I  was  commanded  to  state  my 
version  of  the  matter  in  the  presence  of  the  nuns,  so  I  had  to  do  so. 

As  I  was  inwardly  calm  and  the  Lord  helped  me,  my  account  of 
the  affair  gave  neither  the  Provincial  nor  the  others  present 
any  reason  for  condemning  me.  Afterwards,  when  I  was  alone 
with  him,  I  spoke  to  him  more  plainly,  and  he  was  quite  satisfied, 
and  promised  me,  if  my  foundation  succeeded,  to  give  me  per- 
mission to  go  there  as  soon  as  the  city  was  quiet — for  there  had 
been  a  very  great  commotion  in  the  city,  as  I  shall  now  relate.1 

Two  or  three  days  before,  there  had  been  a  meeting  between 
the  Mayor  and  certain  members  of  the  City  Council  and  of  the 
Chapter,  and  they  had  all  agreed  that  this  new  convent  must 
on  no  account  be  sanctioned,  that  it  would  cause  notable  harm 
to  the  common  weal,  that  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament  must  be 
removed  and  that  the  matter  must  on  no  account  be  allowed  to 
go  any  farther.  They  summoned  a  meeting  of  representatives 
of  all  the  Orders — two  learned  men  from  each — to  obtain  their 
opinions.  Some  said  nothing;  others  were  condemnatory. 
Finally,  they  decided  that  the  foundation  must  be  dissolved  at 
once.  There  was  only  one  of  them,  a  Presentado  of  the  Order 
of  Saint  Dominic,2  who  was  not  opposed  to  the  convent,  though 
he  objected  to  its  poverty:  he  said  that  there  was  no  reason  for 
dissolving  it,  that  the  question  should  be  gone  into  with  care, 
that  there  was  plenty  of  time  for  doing  so,  that  it  was  the  Bishop's 
affair,  and  other  things  of  that  kind.  This  did  a  great  deal  of 
good :  to  judge  by  their  fury,  it  was  fortunate  for  us  that  they  had 
not  proceeded  to  dissolve  the  foundation  on  the  spot.  The  fact 

1  [P.  Silverio  (I,  31 1,  n.  i)  gives  a  long  independent  account  of  the  "commotion" 
namly  from  Julian  de  Avila's  biography  of  St.  Teresa   I  do  not  reproduce  this,  as 
>t.  Teresa's  own  narrative  would  seem  sufficiently  detailed.    The  Bishop's  strong 
upport  of  the  new  foundation  is  an  outstanding  feature  of  the  events  here  related.] 

2  P.  Banez,  who  wrote  here,  in  the  margin  of  the  autograph:  "This  was  at  the  end 
)f  August  in  the  year  1562.  I  was  there  and  gave  this  opinion.  Fr.  Domingo  Banes. 
\nd  I  sign  this  on  May  2,  1575,  when  this  Mother  has  founded  nine  convents  in 
vhich  the  Rule  is  strictly  observed.'* 


XXXVI]  LIFE  255 

was  that  the  convent  had  been  destined  to  be  founded,  for  its 
foundation  was  the  Lord's  will  and  against  that  the  whole  body 
of  them  were  powerless.  They  gave  reasons  for  what  they  did 
and  showed  great  zeal  for  what  was  good,  and  so,  without  offend- 
ing God,  made  me,  and  all  the  people  who  were  helping  the  pro- 
ject, suffer:  there  were  a  number  of  these  and  they  all  had  to  go 
through  a  great  deal  of  persecution. 

All  this  made  such  a  commotion  in  the  city  that  people  talked 
about  nothing  else.  Everybody  was  condemning  me  and  going 
to  see  the  Provincial  and  visiting  my  convent.  I  was  no  more 
distressed  by  all  they  were  saying  about  me  than  I  should  have 
been  if  they  had  said  nothing  at  all,  but  I  was  afraid  that  the 
foundation  might  be  dissolved,  and  that  distressed  me  a  great 
deal,  as  it  did  to  see  that  the  people  who  were  helping  me  were 
losing  credit  and  suffering  such  great  trials.  I  believe  what  they 
had  been  saying  about  me  made  me  rather  glad.  If  I  had  had  a 
little  faith,  I  should  not  have  let  it  worry  me  at  all,  but  a  slight 
failing  in  a  single  virtue  is  sufficient  to  deaden  all  the  rest*  So 
I  was  greatly  distressed  during  the  two  days  in  which  these 
meetings  I  have  mentioned  were  being  held  in  the  town.  Once, 
when  I  was  quite  worn  out,  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "Knowest 
thou  not  how  powerful  I" am?  What  dost  thou  fear?"  and  He 
assured  me  that  the  foundation  would  not  be  dissolved.  This 
brought  me  great  comfort.  They  sent  the  information  which 
they  had  obtained  to  the  Royal  Council  and  a  reply  came  requir- 
ing a  report  to  be  made  on  how  all  this  had  arisen. 

Here  we  were,  then,  at  the  beginning  of  legal  proceedings. 
The  city  sent  representatives  to  the  capital,  and  it  was  clear 
that  the  convent  would  have  to  send  some  too,  but  there  was  no 
money  for  this  and  I  had  no  idea  what  to  do.  However,  the  Lord 
provided,  and  my  Father  Provincial  never  ordered  me  to  with- 
draw from  the  business,  for  he  is  a  lover  of  everything  that  is  good, 
and,  though  he  did  not  help  us,  he  would  not  take  the  other  side. 
But  until  he  saw  what  the  outcome  of  all  this  was  going  to  be, 
he  did  not  give  me  permission  to  come  and  live  here.  So  those 
servants  »of  God  were  alone  in  the  house  and  their  prayers  were 
more  effective  than  all  my  negotiations,  though  I  had  to  be 
extremely  diligent  about  these.  Sometimes  it  seemed  that  every- 
thing was  going  wrong:  this  was  particularly  so  one  day,  before 
the  arrival  of  the  Provincial,  when  the  Prioress  ordered  me  to 
have  no  more  to  do  with  the  matter  and  to  give  it  up  altogether. 
I  went  to  God  and  said:  "Lord,  this  house  is  not  mine;  it  has  been 
founded  for  Thee;  and  now  there  will  be  no  one  to  carry  on  the 
negotiations,  so  Thy  Majesty  must  do  so."  This  calmed  me  and 
left  me  as  free  from  worry  as  if  I  had  had  the  whole  world  carrying 


256  LIFE  [CHAP. 

on  the  negotiations  for  me;  from  that  moment  I  felt  quite  sure 
they  would  prosper. 

A  priest,  who  was  a  great  servant  of  God  and  a  lover  of  all 
perfection,  and  who  had  always  been  a  great  help  to  me,1  went 
to  the  capital  to  take  the  matter  in  hand  and  worked  very  hard 
at  it.  That  saintly  gentleman  of  whom  I  have  made  mention 
also  did  a  very  great  deal  in  the  matter  and  helped  in  every  way 
he  could.  He  suffered  many  trials  and  great  persecution  over 
this  and  I  always  found  him  a  father  in  everything  and  find  him 
so  still.  Those  who  helped  me  were  inspired  by  the  Lord  with 
such  fervour  that  each  of  them  regarded  the  matter  as  if  it  were 
his  own  and  as  if  his  own  life  and  reputation  were  at  stake, 
when  it  had  really  nothing  to  do  with  them  except  in  so  far  as  they 
believed  it  to  be  for  the  Lord's  service.  It  seemed  clear,  too,  that 
His  Majesty  was  helping  the  cleric  I  have  referred  to,  who  was 
another  of  my  great  helpers,  and  whom  the  Bishop  sent  to 
represent  him  at  an  important  meeting  which  was  held.  Here 
he  stood  out  alone  against  all  the  others  and  eventually  pacified 
them  by  suggesting  certain  expedients  which  did  a  great  deal  to 
bring  about  an  agreement.  But  nothing  was  sufficient  to  dissuade 
them  from  putting  their  whole  weight,  as  we  say,  into  smashing 
us.  It  was  this  servant  of  God  of  whom  I  am  speaking  who  gave 
us  the  habit  and  reserved  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament  for  us,2 
and  as  a  result  found  himself  sorely  persecuted.  This  commotion 
lasted  for  six  months,  and  it  would  take  a  long  time  to  give  a 
detailed  description  of  the  severe  trials  which  we  had  to  suffer. 

I  was  astonished  at  all  the  trouble  that  the  devil  was  taking  to 
hurt  a  few  poor  women,  and  how  everybody  thought  that  twelve 
women  and  a  prioress  (for  I  must  remind  those  who  opposed 
the  plan  that  there  were  to  be  no  more)  could  do  such  harm  to 
the  place,  when  they  were  living  so  strictly.  If  there  had  been  any 
harm  or  error  in  their  project  it  would  have  concerned  themselves 
alone;  harm  to  the  city  there  could  not  possibly  be,  and  yet  our 
opponents  found  so  much  that  they  fought  us  with,  a  good  con- 
science. Eventually  they  said  they  would  allow  the  matter  to 
go  forward  if  the  convent  had  an  endowment.  By  this  time  I 
was  so  wearied,  more  by  all  the  trouble  my  helpers  were  having 
than  by  my  own,  that  I  thought  it  would  not  be  a  bad  idea  to 
accept  some  money  until  the  storm  subsided,  and  then  to  give  it 
up.  At  other  times,  like  the  wicked  and  imperfect  woman  I  am,  I 
would  wonder  if  perhaps  it  was  the  Lord's  will  that  we  should 
have  an  endowment,  as  it  seemed  impossible  for  us  to  get  anywhere 
without  one.  So  in  the  end  I  agreed  to  this  arrangement. 

The  discussion  of  it  had  already  begun,  when,  on  the  very  night 

1  Gonzalo  de  Aranda.  2  Caspar  Daza  (see  p   147,  n   i,  above). 


XXXVI]  LIFE  257 

before  it  was  to  be  concluded,  the  Lord  told  me  that  I  must  not 
agree  to  such  a  thing,  for,  if  once  we  had  an  endowment,  we 
should  never  be  allowed  to  give  it  up  again.  He  said  various  other 
things  as  well*  That  same  night  there  appeared  to  me  the  holy 
Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara,  who  was  now  dead.1  Before  his  death, 
knowing  how  much  opposition  and  persecution  we  were  meeting 
with,  he  had  written  to  me2  saying  he  was  delighted  the  founda- 
tion was  encountering  all  this  opposition,  for  the  efforts  which 
the  devil  was  making  to  prevent  the  establishment  of  the  convent 
were  a  sign  that  the  Lord  would  be  very  well  served  there;  and 
he  had  added  that  I  must  on  no  account  allow  the  place  to  have 
any  revenue.  He  had  insisted  upon  this  in  the  letter  two  or  three 
times,  and  said  that,  if  I  were  firm  about  it,  everything  would  turn 
out  as  I  wished.  Since  his  death  I  had  seen  him  on  two  previous 
occasions  and  had  had  a  vision  of  the  great  bliss  that  he  was 
enjoying.  So  his  appearance  caused  me  no  fear — indeed,  it 
made  me  very  happy,  for  he  always  appeared  as  a  glorified 
body,  full  of  great  bliss,  and  it  gave  me  the  greatest  joy  to  see 
him.  I  remember  that,  the  first  time  I  saw  him,  he  told  me  among 
other  things  how  great  was  his  fruition,  adding  that  the  penances 
he  had  done  had  been  a  happy  thing  for  hun,  since  they  had 
won  him  such  a  great  reward. 

As  I  think  I  have  already  said  something  about  this,  I  will 
say  no  more  here  than  that  on  this  occasion  he  spoke  to  me  with 
some  severity.  All  he  said  was  that  I  was  on  no  account  to  accept 
any  endowment  and  asked  why  I  would  not  take  his  advice;  he 
then  immediately  disappeared.  I  was  astounded,  and  on  the  next 
day  I  told  that  gentleman  what  had  happened,  for  I  used  to 
consult  him  about  everything,  as  he  was  the  person  who  helped 
us^most.  I  told  him  on  no  account  to  allow  the  agreement  about 
our  endowment  to  be  concluded,  but  to  let  the  lawsuit  continue. 
He  was  more  definite  about  this  than  I  and  was  delighted  at  what 
I  said;  he  told  me  afterwards  how  much  he  had  regretted  having 
given  the  agreement  his  approval. 

There  then  came  forward  another  person,  a  zealous  and 
devoted  servant  of  God,3  who  suggested  that,  now  this  point  was 
satisfactorily  settled,4  the  matter  should  be  put  into  the  hands  of 

1  [This  vision,  then,  occurred  after  October  18,  1562,  the  date  of  St.  Peter's  death.] 

2  Marchese,  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara's  biographer,  confirms  this  statement.    Daza 
had  been  to  Arenas  to  visit  him  a  few  days  before  his  death  and  had  brought  him  a 
letter  from  Salcedo  telling  of  the  opposition  with  which  St  Teresa  was  meeting  a^d 
of  the  reason  for  it.  This  news  inspired  him  to  write  encouraging  her  to  continue. 

*  Mir  (Santa  Teresa  de  Jfinfr,  Madrid,  1912, 1,  559)  suggests  that  this  was  P.  Baltasar 
Alvarez,  but  gives  insufficient  evidence  for  the  supposition,  nor  does  any  further 
evidence  appear  to  exist. 

4  [This  phrase,  ya  que  cstaba  en  bttenos  tirmmos*  presents  some  difficulty.  Lewis 
translates,  more  or  less  literally,  "the  matter  was  in  good  train";  but,  in  actual  fact, 


258  LIFE  [CHAP. 

learned  men.  This  caused  me  a  good  deal  of  uneasiness,  for  some 
of  my  helpers  agreed  to  that  course  and  the  unravelling  of  this 
tangle  in  which  the  devil  now  involved  us  was  the  most  difficult 
task  of  all.  Throughout  everything  the  Lord  helped  me,  but 
in  this  summary  narrative  it  is  impossible  to  give  an  adequate 
description  of  what  happened  in  the  two  years  between  the 
beginning  of  the  foundation  and  its  completion.  The  first  six 
months  and  the  last  were  the  most  troublesome. 

When  the  city  was  finally  somewhat  calmed,  the  Dominican 
Father-Presentado1  who  was  helping  us  managed  things  for  us 
very  well.  He  had  not  previously  been  there,  but  the  Lord 
brought  him  at  a  time  which  was  very  convenient  for  us,  and  His 
Majesty  seems  to  have  done  so  for  that  end  alone,  for  he  told  me 
afterwards  that  he  had  had  no  reason  for  coining  and  had  only 
heard  of  the  matter  by  accident.  He  stayed  with  us  for  as  long 
as  was  necessary.  When  he  left,  he  managed  somehow — it 
seemed  impossible  that  he  could  have  done  this  in  so  short  a  time — 
to  get  our  Father  Provincial  to  give  me  leave  to  go  and  live  in  the 
new  house  and  to  take  some  other  nuns  with  me  so  that  we  might 
say  the  Office  and  instruct  the  sisters  who  were  there.  It  was  the 
happiest  of  days  for  me  when  we  went  in.2 

While  at  prayer  in  the  church,  before  entering  the  convent, 
I  all  but  went  into  a  rapture,  and  saw  Christ,  Who  seemed  to  be 
receiving  me  with  great  love,  placing  a  crown  on  my  head  and 
thanking  me  for  what  I  had  done  for  His  Mother.  On  another 
occasion,  after  Compline,  when  we  were  all  praying  in  choir,  I 
saw  Our  Lady  in  the  greatest  glory,  clad  in  a  white  mantle, 
beneath  which  she  seemed  to  be  sheltering  us  all.8  From  this  I 
learned  what  a  high  degree  of  glory  the  Lord  would  give  to  the 
nuns  in  this  house, 

as  the  following  lines  make  clear,  it  was  not — only  the  acceptance  of  the  endowment, 
it  seemed,  could  have  resolved  the  conflict.  I  take  the  author's  meaning  to  be  that, 
from  her  point  of  view,  the  position  was  clarified — there  was  a  straight  issue  •  she  no 
longer  had  to  contend  with  her  own  subconscious  aversion  from  financial  help  ] 

1  P.  Ibanez. 

2  Despite  his  good  will,  the  Provincial  found  certain  obstacles  in  the  way  of  his 
granting  this  permission,  and,  although  apparently  he  did  so  verbally  on  July  3,  1 563, 
it  was  not  unul  August  22  that  he  was  able  to  issue  a  patent  giving  leave  to  Dofia 
Teresa  de  Ahumada,  Maria  Ord6nez,  Ana  G6mez  and  Maria  de  Cepeda  to  transfer 
to  St.  Joseph's.   The  Nuncio's  confirmation  of  this  patent,  as  far  as  it  affected  St. 
Teresa,  was  dated  August  21,  1564.  P,  Jer6nimo  de  San  Jose*  infers  from  the  Preface 
to  the  Foundations  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  xxi,  below)  that  St.  Teresa  was  living  at  St«  Joseph's  in 
December  1562  [though  I  do  not  myself  think  that,  considering  how  near  that  convent 
was  to  the  Incarnation,  the  words  of  the  reference  necessarily  mean  this."]    Others 
think  she  went  there  in  March  1563,  the  date  given  by  Maria  Pinel  in  her  manuscript 
History  of  the  Convent  of  the  Incarnation.  The  earliest  extant  records  at  St.  Joseph's 
give  no  help,  as  they  date  only  from  1580. 

8  At  one  time  every  Discalced  Carmelite  convent  had  a  picture  representing  this 
vision* 


XXXVI]  LIFE  259 

When  we  had  started  to  say  the  Office,  the  people  began  to 
be  very  much  devoted  ta  the  convent.  More  nuns  were  received 
and  the  Lord  started  to  move  the  people  who  had  persecuted 
us  most  to  help  us  and  give  us  alms.  So  they  now  found  them- 
selves approving  what  previously  they  had  so  strongly  condemned 
and  gradually  they  abandoned  the  lawsuit  and  said  they  now 
realized  the  work  was  of  God,  since  His  Majesty  had  seen  well  to 
further  it  despite  so  much  opposition.  There  is  no  one  now  who 
thinks  it  would  have  been  right  to  give  up  the  foundation,  so  they 
are  very  anxious  to  provide  for  us  with  their  alms ;  and,  without 
our  making  any  appeals  or  asking  anyone  for  money,  the  Lord 
inspires  people  to  send  it.  We  get  on  very  well,  then,  and  have  no 
lack  of  necessaries;  I  hope  in  the  Lord  that  this  will  be  the  case 
always.  As  the  nuns  are  few  in  number  I  am  sure  His  Majesty 
will  never  fail  them  if  they  do  their  duty,  as  at  present  He  is 
giving  them  grace  to  do;  nor  will  they  ever  have  to  be  burdensome 
or  importunate,  for  the  Lord  will  take  care  of  them  as  He  has 
done  until  now.  It  is  the  greatest  happiness  to  me  to  find  myself 
among  souls  with  detachment. 

Their  life  consists  in  learning  how  to  advance  in  the  service 
of  God.  They  find  their  greatest  happiness  in  solitude  and  it 
troubles  them  to  think  of  seeing  anyone — even  a  near  relative — 
unless  doing  so  will  help  to  enkindle  them  in  the  love  of  their 
Spouse.  So  none  come  to  this  house  save  with  that  aim;  were 
they  to  do  so  it  would  give  pleasure  neither  to  themselves  nor 
to  the  sisters.  They  speak  only  of  God,  and  they  understand 
no  one  who  speaks  of  anything  else,  nor  does  such  a  person  under- 
stand them.  We  observe  the  rule  of  Our  Lady  of  Carmel,  and  we 
keep  it  without  mitigation,  in  the  form  drawn  up  by  Fray  Hugo, 
Cardinal  of  Santa  Sabina,  and  given  in  the  year  1248,  in  the  fifth 
year  of  the  pontificate  of  Pope  Innocent  IV. 

All  the  trials  that  we  have  suffered  will,  I  believe,  have  been 
endured  to  good  purpose.  The  rule  is  rather  strict,  for  meat  is 
never  eaten  except  in  cases  of  necessity,  there  is  an  eight-months' 
fast,  and  there  are  other  ascetic  practices,  as  may  be  seen  in  the 
primitive  Rule.  Yet  many  of  these  things  seem  to  the  sisters 
very  light  and  they  observe  other  rules  which  we  have  thought  it 
necessary  to  make  so  that  our  own  Rule  may  be  kept  the  more 
perfectly.  I  hope  in  the  Lord  that  what  we  have  begun  will 
prosper,  as  His  Majesty  told  me  it  would. 

The  other  house  which  the  beata  I  spoke  of1  was  endeavouring 
to  establish  has  also  enjoyed  the  Lord's  favour.  It  was  founded  in 

1  Maria  de  Jesus.  Cf,  p.  241,  n.  3,  above.  Having  more  fervour  than  discretion, 
this  lady  went  to  such  lengths  in  the  austerities  which  she  imposed  that  life  in  her 
convent  became  impossible  and  in  1567  St.  Teresa  had  to  visit  it  in  order  to  put  things 


26o  LIFE  [CHAP. 

Alcala  and  did  not  fail  to  meet  with  a  great  deal  of  opposition 
or  escape  severe  trials.  I  know  that  all  the  observances  of  the 
religious  life  are  practised  in  it,  according  to  this  our  primitive 
Rule.  May  the  Lord  be  pleased  to  direct  it  all  to  His  glory  and 
praise  and  to  that  of  the  glorious  Virgin  Mary,  whose  habit 
we  wear.  Amen. 

I  expect  Your  Reverence1  will  be  getting  impatient  at  the  long 
account  which  I  have  given  of  this  convent,  though  it  is  short 
enough  when  you  remember  how  many  trials  the  Lord  has  sent 
us  and  what  marvellous  things  He  has  wrought.  There  are  many 
witnesses  who  will  be  able  to  swear  to  these,  so  I  beg  Your 
Reverence,  for  the  love  of  God,  if  you  think  it  well  to  tear  up 
everything  else  that  is  written  here,  to  preserve  what  concerns 
this  convent.  Then,  after  my  death,  it  should  be  given  to  the 
sisters  here,  for  it  will  be  a  great  encouragement  in  the  service 
of  God  to  those  who  come  after  us  and  will  prevent  this  work  that 
has  been  begun  from  falling  to  the  ground  and  help  it  to  prosper 
continually  when  it  is  seen  what  importance  His  Majesty  must 
have  attached  to  this  house  since  He  founded  it  through  a  creature 
as  wicked  and  as  base  as  I.  And  I  believe  myself  that,  as  the  Lord 
has  been  pleased  to  grant  us  such  special  help  in  its  foundation, 
anyone  will  do  great  harm  and  be  heavily  punished  by  God  who 
attempts  to  mitigate  the  perfection  of  the  Rule  which  the  Lord 
has  initiated  and  encouraged  here,  and  which  works  so  smoothly. 
For  it  is  quite  evidently  easy  to  endure  and  pleasant  to  carry 
out,  and  there  is  every  facility  for  its  being  kept  permanently 
by  those  who  desire  to  rejoice  in  Christ  their  Spouse  in  solitude. 
This  will  always  be  the  aim  of  our  nuns — to  be  alone  with  Him 
only.  There  will  not  be  more  than  thirteen  of  them,2  for,  after 
asking  the  opinions  of  many  people,  I  have  decided  that  that 
number  is  best,  and  I  have  seen  by  experience  that,  if  we  are  to 
preserve  the  spirituality  which  we  now  possess,  and  to  live  on  alms, 
yet  not  to  beg  from  anyone,  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  admit  more. 
May  they  always  give  the  greatest  credence  to  one  who,  with 
much  labour  and  through  the  prayers  of  many,  contrived  to 
arrange  things  for  the  best.  That  this  is  the  way  which  suits  us 
will  be  evident  from  the  great  joy  and  gladness  and  the  few  trials 
which  we  have  had  during  the  years  we  have  been  in  this  house, 
as  well  as  from  our  health,  which  has  been  far  better  than  before. 

straight,  which  she  did  by  giving  the  nuns  the  same  Constitution  as  that  of  St.  Joseph's. 
This  Alcald  convent,  however,  never  came  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Order, 
which  in  1599  founded  a  convent  of  its  own  there,  known  as  Corpus  Christi. 

1  P.  Garcia  de  Toledo. 

1  Later  St.  Teresa  increased  this  number,  as  well  as  admitting  lay  sisters,  of  whom 
there  were  none  at  St.  Joseph's  when  it  was  founded.  To-day  there  are  twenty-one 
nuns  in  each  convent,  eighteen  of  whom  are  choir-nuns. 


XXXVI]  LIFE  261 

If  anyone  thinks  the  Rule  a  harsh  one,  let  her  blame  her  own  lack 
of  spirituality  and  not  our  observance;  for  it  can  be  borne  quite 
easily  by  people  who  are  not  in  the  least  robust,  but  really  delicate, 
if  they  have  sufficient  spirituality.  Let  those  who  have  not  go  to 
some  other  convent,  where  they  will  find  salvation  and  yet  Jive 
according  to  the  spirituality  which  they  have. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

Describes  the  effects  produced  upon  her  after  the  Lord  had  granted  her  any 
favour.  Adds  much  sound  teaching.  Says  how  we  must  strive 
in  order  to  attain  one  degree  more  of  glory  and  esteem  it  highly 
and  how  for  no  trial  must  we  renounce  blessings  which  are  everlasting. 

It  is  painful  to  me  to  say  more  of  the  favours  which  the  Lord 
has  bestowed  on  me  than  I  have  said  already;  even  these  are  so 
numerous  that  it  is  hard  for  anyone  to  believe  they  can  have  been 
granted  to  one  as  wicked  as  I.  But  in  obedience  to  the  Lord, 
Who  has  commanded  me  to  do  so,  and  to  Your  Reverences,1 
I  shall  speak  of  some  of  these  things  to  His  glory.  May  it  please 
His  Majesty  that  some  ,soul  shall  be  profited  by  seeing  that  the 
Lord  has  thus  been  pleased  to  help  so  wretched  a  creature — how 
much  more  will  He  help  one  who  has  served  Him  truly!  Let 
us  all  strive  to  please  His  Majesty,  since  even  in  this  life  He  gives 
such  pledges  as  these. 

First,  it  must  be  understood  that,  in  these  favours  which  God 
grants  the  soul,  there  are  greater  and  lesser  degrees  of  glory.  For 
so  far  do  the  glory  and  pleasure  and  happiness  of  some  visions 
exceed  those  of  others  that  I  am  amazed  at  the  diversity  in  fruition 
which  is  possible,  even  in  this  life.  There  can  be  so  much  difference 
between  the  consolations  and  favours  given  by  God  in  a  vision 
or  in  a  rapture  that  it  seems  impossible  there  can  be  anything 
more  in  this  life  to  be  desired,?  and  so  the  soul  does  not  desire, 
and  would  never  ask  for,  any  greater  happiness.  At  the  same  time, 
now  that  the  Lord  has  explained  to  me  that  there  is  a  difference 
in  Heaven  between  the  fruition  that  can  be  experienced  by  one 
soul  and  by  another,  and  shown  me  how  great  that  difference  is, 
I  see  clearly  that  here  too,  when  the  Lord  is  pleased  so  to  give, 
there  is  no  measure  in  His  giving.  I  wish  that  the  same  were  true 

1  PP.  Pedro  Ibdnez  and  Garcia  de  Toledo. 

a  ["More  to  be  desired  than  the  highest  of  them,  which  are  so  incomparably  greater 
than  the  lowest"  is  the  meaning.  As  it  stands,  the  sentence  would  seem  to  mean 
that  the  difference  is  between  consolations  and  favours  or  between  visions  and  rap- 
tures, buta  as  so  often  in  St.  Teresa,  the  true  sense  is  indicated  by  the  context.] 


262  LIFE  [CHAP- 

of  the  service  I  render  His  Majesty,  and  that  I  employed  my 
whole  life  and  strength  and  health  in  this;  I  would  have  no 
fault  of  mine  deprive  me  of  the  smallest  degree  of  fruition.  I 
can  say,  then,  that  if  I  were  asked  whether  I  should  prefer  to 
endure  all  the  trials  in  the  world  until  the  world  itself  ends, 
and  afterwards  to  gain  a  little  more  glory,  or  to  have  no  trials  and 
attain  to  one  degree  less  of  glory,  I  should  answer  that  I  would 
most  gladly  accept  all  the  trials  in  exchange  for  a  little  more 
fruition  in  the  understanding  of  the  wonders  of  God,  for  I  see 
that  he  who  understands  Him  best  loves  and  praises  Him  best. 

I  do  not  mean  that  I  should  not  be  pleased  and  think  myself 
very  happy  to  be  in  Heaven,  even  if  I  were  in  the  lowest  place 
there;  for,  as  one  who  had  merited  suhc  a  place  in  hell,  I  should 
be  receiving  a  great  favour  from  the  Lord  if  He  were  to  grant  me 
a  place  in  Heaven  at  all:  may  it  please  His  Majesty  to  bring  me 
there  and  not  to  regard  my  grievous  sins.  What  I  mean  is  that,  if 
the  choice  were  mine,  and  the  Lord  gave  me  grace  to  endure  great 
trials,  even  were  it  at  the  greatest  cost  to  myself,  I  should  not 
like  to  lose  anything  whatever  through  my  own  fault.  Wretch 
that  I  am,  who  through  my  many  faults  had  lost  everything ! 

It  should  also  be  observed  that,  after  every  favour  in  the  shape 
of  a  vision  or  a  revelation  which  the  Lord  granted  me,  my  soul 
was  left  with  some  great  gain — after  certain  visions,  with  very 
many.  After  a  vision  of  Christ  there  remained  with  me  an 
impression  of  His  exceeding  great  beauty,  which  I  have  preserved 
to  this  very  day.  And  if  one  single  vision  sufficed  to  effect  this, 
how  much  greater  would  be  the  power  of  all  those  which  of  His 
favour  the  Lord  has  granted  me!  One  very  great  benefit  which 
I  received  was  this.  I  had  a  very  serious  fault,  which  led  me  into 
great  trouble.  It  was  .that,  if  I  began  to  realize  that  a  person 
liked  me,  and  I  took  to  him  myself,  I  would  grow  so  fond  of  him 
that  my  memory  would  feel  compelled  to  revert  to  him  and  I 
would  always  be  thinking  of  him;  without  intentionally  giving 
any  offence  to  God,  I  would  delight  in  seeing  him  and  think 
about  him  and  his  good  qualities.  This  was  such  a  harmful  thing 
that  it  was  ruining  my  soul.  But  when  once  I  had  seen  the  great 
beauty  of  the  Lord,  I  saw  no  one  who  by  comparison  with  Him 
seemed  acceptable  to  me  or  on  whom  my  thoughts  wished  to 
dwell.  For  if  I  merely  turn  the  eyes  of  my  mind  to  the  image  of 
Him  which  I  have  within  my  soul,  I  find  I  have  such  freedom 
th,at  from  that  time  forward  everything  I  see  appears  nauseating 
to  me  by  comparison  with  the  excellences  and  glories  which  I 
have  seen  in  this  Lord.  Nor  is  there  any  knowledge  or  any  kind 
of  consolation  to  which  I  can  attach  the  slightest  esteem  by 
comparison  with  that  which  it  causes  me, to  hear  a  single  word 


XXXVII]  LIFE  263 

coming  from  that  Divine  mouth — and  more  wonderful  still  is  it 
when  I  hear  many.  And,  unless  for  my  sins  the  Lord  allows  this 
memory  to  fade,  I  consider  it  impossible  for  me  to  be  so  deeply 
absorbed  in  anything  that  I  do  not  regain  my  freedom  when  I 
turn  once  more  in  thought,  even  for  a  moment,  to  this  Lord.  fc 
This  has  happened  to  me  with  some  of  my  confessors,  for  I 
always  have  a  great  affection  for  those  who  direct  my  soul, 
looking  upon  them  as  so  truly  in  the  place  of  God  that  I  always 
like  to  follow  their  advice  more  than  anything  else.  As  I  was 
feeling  perfectly  safe,  therefore,  I  would  show  myself  pleasant  to 
them.  But  they,  being  God-fearing  and  God-serving  men,  were 
afraid  that  I  might  in  some  way  become  attached  to  them  and 
drawn  towards  them — in  a  spiritual  sense,  of  course — by  the 
bonds  of  affection;  so  they  would  treat  me  quite  unpleasantly. 
This  happened  after  I  became  accustomed  to  obeying  them; 
before  that  I  had  had  no  such  affection  for  them.  I  used  to  laugh 
to  myself  when  I  saw  how  mistaken  they  were.  I  was  not  always 
telling  them,  in  so  many  words,  how  little  attachment  I  had  to 
anybody,  though  secretly  I  knew  this  to  be  the  case,  but  I  would 
reassure  them,  and,  when  they  got  to  know  me  better,  they 
learned  how  much  I  owed  to  the  Lord — for  these  suspicions 
which  they  had  of  me  always  came  at  the  beginning.  Once  I 
had  seen  this  Lord,  I  was  so  continually  in  converse  with  Him  that 
my  love  for  Him  and  trust  in  Him  began  to  increase  greatly. 
I  saw  that,  although  God,  He  was  also  Man,  and  is  not  dismayed 
at  the  weaknesses  of  men,  for  He  understands  our  miserable 
nature,  liable  as  it  is  to  frequent  falls,  because  of  man's  first  sin 
for  which  He  had  come  to  make  reparation.  Although  He  is  my 
Lord,  I  can  talk  to  Him  as  to  a  Mend,  because  He  is  not,  I  believe, 
like  those  whom  we  call  lords  on  earth,  all  of  whose  power1 
rests  upon  an  authority  conferred  on  them  by  others.  Such  lords 
have  fixed  hours  for  audiences  and  persons  whom  they  appoint 
for  the  purpose  of  speaking  with  them.  If  some  poor  man  has 
business  with  them,  he  can  only  get  it  attended  to  by  employing 
roundabout  methods  and  currying  favours  and  taking  a  great  deal 
of  trouble.  If  his  business  is  with  a  king,  and  he  is  poor  and  not 
well-born,  he  cannot  approach  him  directly,  but  has  to  find  out 
who  are  his  favourites.  And  you  may  be  sure  they  will  not  be 
people  who  trample  the  world  underfoot;  for  people  who  do  that 
speak  the  truth,  fear  nothing  and  need  fear  nothing;  they 
are  not  meant  for  palaces,  for  there  they  cannot  do  as  they  are 
wont,  but  must  keep  silence  about  anything  they  dislike  and  must 
not  dare  even  to  think  about  it  or  they  will  fall  from  favour, 

1  ["Lords"  is  senorw,  and  "power",  senorio:  there  is  thus  a  play  upon  words,  almost 
as  though  we  were  to  read:  "lords  of  the  earth,  who  lord  it  by  authority."] 


264  LIFE  [CHAP. 

O  King  of  glory  and  Lord  of  all  kings !  Thy  kingdom  is  not 
fenced  in  by  trifles,  but  is  infinite.  No  third  party  is  required 
'to  obtain  us  an  audience  of  Thee.  We  have  only  to  look  at  Thy 
person  to  see  at  once  that  Thou  alone  deservest  to  be  called 
Lord.  Thou  revealest  Thy  majesty;  we  need  no  sight  of  a  retinue 
or  guard  to  convince  us  that  Thou  art  a  King.  An  earthly  king 
can  scarcely  be  recognized  as  such  in  his  own  person;  for,  however 
much  he  may  wish  to  be  so  recognized,  no  one  will  believe  he  is  a 
king  if  there  is  nothing  about  him  to  distinguish  him  from  others ; 
his  majesty  must  be  seen  to  be  believed.  So  it  is  reasonable  that 
kings  should  maintain  this  artificial  authority,  for,  if  they  had 
none,  nobody  would  respect  them,  as  their  appearance  of  power 
does  not  come  from  themselves  and  their  authority  must  of 
necessity  come  from  others.  O  my  Lord!  O  my  King!  If  one 
could  but  picture  Thy  majesty !  It  is  impossible  not  to  see  that  in 
Thyself  Thou  art  a  great  Emperor,  for  to  behold  Thy  majesty 
strikes  terror.  But  my  terror  is  greater,  my  Lord,  when  together 
with  Thy  majesty  I  behold  Thy  humility  and  the  love  that  Thou 
bestowest  on  such  a  creature  as  I. 

We  can  converse  and  speak  with  Thee  about  anything,  just 
as  we  wish,  when  we  have  lost  our  initial  fear  and  terror  at  seeing 
Thy  majesty  and  acquired  a  deeper  fear  of  offending  Thee — 
but  not  a  fear  of  punishment,  my  Lord,  for  that  is  of  no  account 
by  comparison  with  loss  of  Thee!  Here,  then,  are  the  benefits 
of  this  vision,  setting  aside  other  important  ones  which  it  leaves 
behind  in  the  soul.  If  the  vision  is  of  God,  its  source  will  be 
recognizable  by  its  effects,  when  the  soul  receives  light — for,  as  I 
have  often  said,  the  Lord  may  be  pleased  for  the  soul  to  be  in 
darkness  and  not  to  see  this  light,  so  it  is  not  surprising  if  one  who 
knows  herself  to  be  as  wicked  as  I  should  be  afraid. 

Only  quite  recently  it  chanced  that  for  a  full  week  I  was  in 
such  a  condition  that  I  seemed  to  have  lost  all  sense  of  my  debt 
to  God  and  was  unable  to  recapture  it.  I  could  not  remember 
His  favours;  and  my  soul  had  become  so  stupid  and  so  much 
occupied  (I  know  not  with  what,  or  how:  it  was  not  that  I  had  bad 
thoughts  but  that  I  was  incapable  of  thinking  any  good  ones) 
that  I  would  laugh  at  myself  and  find  it  pleasant  to  realize  how 
low  a  soul  can  sink  when  God  is  not  forever  working  within  it. 
In  such  a  state,  the  soul  sees  clearly  that  it  is  not  without  God: 
this  is  not  like  the  severe  trials  which  I  have  said  I  sometimes 
experience.  The  soul  collects  wood  and  does  all  it  can  by  itself, 
but  finds  no  way  of  kindling  the  fire  of  the  love  of  God.  It  is 
only  by  His  great  mercy  that  the  smoke  can  be  seen,  which  shows 
that  the  fire  is  not  altogether  dead.  Then  the  Lord  comes  back 
and  kindles  it,  for  the  soul  is  driving  itself  crazy  with  blowing  on 


XXXVII]  LIFE  265 

the  fire  and  rearranging  the  wood,  yet  all  its  efforts  only  put  out 
the  fire  more  and  more.  I  believe  the  best  thing  is  for  the  soul 
to  be  completely  resigned  to  the  fact  that  of  itself  it  can  do  nothing, 
and  busy  itself,  as  I  have  already  suggested,  in  other  meritorious 
activities,  for  the  Lord  may  perhaps  be  depriving  it  of  the  power 
to  pray,  precisely  so  that  it  may  engage  in  these  other  activities 
and  learn  by  experience  how  little  it  can  do  of  itself. 

It  is  true  that,  while  in  converse  with  the  Lord  to-day,  I  have 
dared  to  complain  of  His  Majesty.  "How  is  it,  my  God/'  I  have 
said  to  Him,  "that  it  is  not  enough  for  Thee  to  keep  me  in  this 
miserable  life,  which  I  endure  for  love  of  Thee,  willing  to  live 
where  on  every  hand  there  are  obstacles  to  my  having  fruition 
of  Thee?  I  have  to  eat,  sleep,  attend  to  my  business  and  mix 
with  people  of  every  kind — and  all  this  I  endure  for  love  of  Thee. 
Well  knowest  Thou,  my  Lord,  that  this  is  the  sorest  torment  to 
me.  How  few  are  the  moments  which  remain  to  me  for  enjoying 
communion  with  Thee,  and  even  during  these  moments  Thou 
hidest  Thyself!  How  does  this  agree  with  Thy  mercy?  How 
can  Thy  love  for  me  endure  it?  Verily,  Lord,  I  believe  that, 
if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  hide  myself  from  Thee  as  Thou  hidest 
Thyself  from  me,  the  love  that  Thou  bearest  me  is  such  that  Thou 
wouldst  not  endure  it.  But  Thou  art  with  me  and  seest  me  always. 
My  Lord,  this  is  not  to  be  borne;  consider,  I  beseech  Thee,  what 
a  wrong  is  being  done  to  one  who  so  much  loves  Thee." 

This  and  other  things,  as  it  chanced,  I  was  saying,  while 
realizing  all  the  time  how  merciful  was  the  place  in  hell  assigned 
to  me  by  comparison  with  the  place  I  deserved.  But  sometimes 
love  makes  me  foolish,  so  that  I  do  not  know  what  I  am  saying, 
and  I  use  all  the  sense  I  have  and  make  these  complaints  and  the 
Lord  bears  with  it  all.  Praised  be  so  good  a  King!  Should  we 
be  as  bold  as  this  in  our  approach  to  earthly  kings?  I  am  not 
surprised  that  we  should  not  dare  to  speak  to  a  king,  for  it  is 
right  that  he  and  the  lords  who  act  as  his  representatives  should 
be  feared,  but  the  world  is  now  in  such  a  condition  that  our 
lives  will  have  to  be  longer  than  they  are  if  we  are  to  learn  the 
new  customs  and  details  and  methods  of  correct  behaviour  and  yet 
spend  any  time  in  the  service  of  God*  When  I  see  all  that  goes  on, 
I  can  only  cross  myself  in  dismay.  The  fact  is,  when  I  came  here1 
I  did  not  know  how  I  was  going  to  live;  for  when  we  are  careless 
and  omit  to  treat  people  much  better  than  they  deserve  it  is  not 
made  light  of,  but  considered  as  a  real  affront;  if,  as  I  said, 
we  have  been  careless,  we  have  to  satisfy  people  that  our  inten- 
tions were  good — and  please  God  they  may  believe  us! 

Really,  I  repeat,  I  did  not  know  how  I  was  going  to  live: 

1  I.e.,  to  St.  Joseph's. 


266  LIFE  [CHAP. 

you  could  have  seen  that  my  poor  soul  was  worn  out.  It  hears 
itself  being  told  always  to  occupy  its  thoughts  with  God  and 
to  be  sure  to  keep  them  fixed  on  Him  so  that  it  may  escape  from 
all  kinds  of  danger.  On  the  other  hand,  it  discovers  that  it  must 
not  fail  to  observe  a  single  point  of  worldly  etiquette,  lest  it  should 
give  offence  to  those  who  think  this  etiquette  essential  to  their 
honour.  I  used  to  be  simply  worn  out  by  all  this :  my  attempts 
to  satisfy  people  were  never-ending,  for,  study  to  please  them  as  I 
would,  I  was  always  making  mistakes,  and,  as  I  say,  these  are 
never  overlooked  as  being  unimportant.  And  is  it  the  case  that 
in  religious  Orders  excuses  are  made  for  all  such  things?  It 
might  be  thought  only  reasonable  that  we  should  be  excused 
from  these  observances.  But  no;  they  say  that  convents  should 
be  courts  and  schools  of  good  breeding.  Personally,  I  simply 
cannot  understand  this.  It  has  occurred  to  me  that  some  saint 
may  have  said  that  they  ought  to  be  courts  to  teach  those  who  want 
to  be  courtiers  of  Heaven  and  that  this  saying  may  have  been 
wrongly  interpreted.  But  if  we  are  careful,  as  it  is  right  we  should 
be,  always  to  please  God  and  to  hate  the  world,  I  do  not  see  how 
at  the  same  time  we  can  be  so  very  careful  to  please  those  who  are 
living  in  the  world,  in  matters  which  are  so  often  changing.  If 
these  things  could  be  learned  once  and  for  all,  it  might  be  toler- 
able, But  even  for  a  matter  like  the  addressing  of  letters  we  need 
a  University  professorship,  and  lectures  would  have  to  be  given 
in  that  art,  or  whatever  it  is  to  be  called.  For  in  one  case  one  part 
of  the  paper  has  to  be  left  blank,  and  in  another  case,  another 
part,  and  the  title  "Illustrious"  has  to  be  given  to  a  man  who 
formerly  was  not  even  described  as  "Magnificent". 

I  cannot  think  what  we  are  coming  to — for  I  am  not  yet 
fifty,  *  and  even  in  my  own  short  life  I  have  seen  so  many  changes 
that  I  have  no  idea  how  to  live.  What,  then,  will  it  be  with  those 
\vho  are  now  being  born  and  whose  Hves  are  still  before  them? 
I  am  really  sorry  for  spiritual  people  who  for  certain  pious  reasons 
are  obliged  to  live  in  the  world :  the  cross  they  have  to  bear  is  a 
dreadful  one.  If  they  could  all  come  to  an  agreement  to  remain 
ignorant  of  these  sciences  and  be  willing  to  be  considered  so, 
they  would  escape  a  great  deal  of  trouble. 

But  what  nonsense  I  have  begun  to  write!  I  was  discussing 
the  wonders  of  God  and  I  have  descended  so  far  that  I  am  now 
talking  about  the  pettinesses  of  the  world.  So,  as  the  Lord  has 
granted  me  the  favour  of  allowing  me  to  renounce  the  world,  I 

1  [Unless  St,  Teresa  were  miytaVmi  jibout  her  own  age— -a  by  no  means  uncommon 
phenomenon  in  Spain-  so  modem  a  -writer  as  Ntinez  de  Arce  (1832-1903)  for  long 
believed  himself  to  be  two  years  younger  than  he  was — these  lines  must  have  been 
written  before  March  28,  1565.] 


XXXVII]  LIFE  267 

will  bring  this  to  a  close.  Let  those  who  toil  over  the  adjustment  of 
such  trifles  settle  them  to  their  own  satisfaction.  And  pray  God 
that  in  the  life  to  come,  where  there  are  no  changes,  we  may 
not  have  to  pay  dearly  for  them.  Amen. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

Describes  certain  great  favours  which  the  Lord  bestowed  upon  her,  both 
in  showing  her  certain  heavenly  secrets  and  in  granting  her  other 
great  visions  and  revelations  which  His  Majesty  was  pleased  that 
she  should  experience.  Speaks  of  the  effects  which  these  produced 
upon  her  and  of  the  great  profit  which  they  brought  to  her  soul. 

One  night,  when  I  was  so  unwell  that  I  meant  to  excuse  myself 
from  mental  prayer,  I  took  a  rosary,  so  as  to  occupy  myself 
in  vocal  prayer,  trying  not  to  be  recollected  in  mind,  though, 
as  I  was  in  an  oratory,  I  was  recollected  to  all  outward  appear- 
ance. But,  when  the  Lord  wills  it  otherwise,  such  efforts  are  of 
little  avail.  I  had  been  in  that  condition  only  a  very  short  time 
when  there  came  to  me  a  spiritual  impulse  of  such  vehemence 
that  resistance  to  it  was  impossible.  I  thought  I  was  being  carried 
up  to  Heaven:  the  first  persons  I  saw  there  were  my  father  and 
mother,  and  such  great  things  happened  in  so  short  a  time-* 
no  longer  than  it  would  take  to  repeat  an  Ave  Maria — that  I  was 
completely  lost  to  myself,  and  thought  it  far  too  great  a  favour. 
I  was  afraid  lest  it  might  be  an  illusion,  but,  as  it  did  not  seem 
to  be  so,  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  for  I  was  very  much  ashamed 
to  go  to  my  confessor  about  it — not,  I  think,  because  of  any 
humility  but  for  fear  he  might  laugh  at  me  and*say :  **  What  a  Saint 
Paul  she  is,  with  her  heavenly  visions!  Quite  a  Saint  Jerome!" 
Because  these  glorious  saints  had  had  visions  of  this  kind,  I  was 
the  more  afraid,  and  did  nothing  but  shed  copious  tears,  for  I 
did  not  think  it  possible  that  I  had  been  sharing  their  experiences. 
In  the  end,  though  feeling  still  worse  about  it,  I  went  to  see  my 
confessor,  for,  however  much  it  troubled  me  to  speak  of  such 
things,  I  never  dared  to  keep  silence  about  them,  so  fearful  was  I 
of  being  deceived.  When  he  saw  how  worried  I  was  about  it, 
he  comforted  me  a  great  deal,  and  gave  me  a  great  many  good 
reasons  for  not  being  troubled. 

With  the  progress  of  time,  the  Lord  continued  to  show  me 
further  great  secrets:  sometimes  He  does  so  still.  The  soul 
may  wish  to  see  more  than  is  pictured  to  it,  but  there  is  no  way 
in  which  it  may  do  so,  nor  is  it  possible  that  it  should;  and  so 


268  LIFE  [CHAP. 

I  never  on  any  occasion  saw  more  than  the  Lord  was  pleased  to 
show  me.  What  I  saw  was  so  great  that  the  smallest  part  of  it  was 
sufficient  to  leave  my  soul  amazed  and  to  do  it  so  much  good  that 
it  esteemed  and  considered  all  the  things  of  this  life  as  of  little 
worth.  I  wish  I  could  give  a  description  of  at  least  the  smallest 
part  of  what  I  learned,  but,  when  I  try  to  discover  a  way  of  doing 
so,  I  find  it  impossible;  for,  while  the  light  we  see  here  and  that 
other  light  are  both  light,  there  is  no  comparison  between  the 
two  and  the  brightness  of  the  sun  seems  quite  dull  if  compared 
with  the  other.  In  short,  however  skilful  the  imagination  may 
be,  it  will  not  succeed  in  picturing  or  describing  what  that  light 
is  like,  nor  a  single  one  of  those  things  which  I  learned  from  the 
Lord  with  a  joy  so  sovereign  as  to  be  indescribable.  For  all 
the  senses  rejoice  in  a  high  degree,  and  with  a  sweetness  impossible 
to  describe,  for  which  reason  it  is  better  to  say  no  more  about  it. 

Once,  when  I  had  been  for  more  than  an  hour  in  this  state, 
and  the  Lord  had  shown  me  wonderful  things,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  He  were  not  going  to  leave  me,  He  said  to  me:  "See,  daugh- 
ter, what  those  who  are  against  Me  lose:  do  not  fail  to  tell  them 
of  it."  Ah,  my  Lord,  how  little  will  my  words  profit  those  who 
are  blinded  by  their  own  actions  unless  Thy  Majesty  gives  them 
light!  Some  persons  to  whom  Thou  hast  given  it  have  profited 
by  the  knowledge  of  Thy  wonders,  but  they  see  them,  my  Lord, 
as  revealed  to  a  wicked  and  miserable  creature  like  myself,  so 
that  I  think  it  will  be  a  great  thing  if  there  should  be  anyone  who 
believes  me.  Blessed  be  Thy  name  and  Thy  mercy,  for  I  have 
found  that  my  own  soul  at  least  has  notably  improved.  After- 
wards I  could  have  wished  that  my  soul  had  remained  in  that 
state  for  ever  and  that  I  had  not  returned  to  this  life,  for  I  was  left 
with  a  great  contempt  for  everything  earthly.  It  seemed  to  me 
like  dung  and  I  see  how  base  are  the  occupations  of  those  of  us 
who  are  detained  here  below. 

It  happened  on  one  occasion  while  I  was  staying  with  that  lady 
whom  I  have  mentioned,1  and  I  was  troubled  with  my  heart 
(as  I  have  said,  I  have  suffered  with  this  a  great  deal,  though 
less  so  of  late),  that,  being  an  extremely  kind  person,  she  had 
some  very  valuable  golden  trinkets  and  stones  brought  out  for  me, 
and  in  particular  a  set  of  diamonds,  supposed  to  be  of  great  price, 
thinking  that  they  would  cheer  me.  But  I  only  laughed  to  myself, 
thinking  what  a  pity  it  is  that  people  esteem  such  things,  remem- 
bering what  the  Lord  has  laid  up  for  us  and  reflecting  how 
impossible  it  would  be  for  me  to  set  any  store  by  these  things, 
even  if  I  tried  to  make  myself  do  so,  unless  the  Lord  were  to 
allow  me  to  forget  those  others. 

1  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Gerda. 


XXXVIII]  LIFE  269 

The  soul  that  feels  like  this  has  great  dominion,  over  itself— 
so  great  that  I  do  not  know  if  it  can  be  understood  by  anyone 
who  does  not  possess  it,  for  it  is  a  real,  natural  detachment, 
achieved  without  labour  of  our  own.  It  is  all  effected  by  God3 
for,  when  His  Majesty  reveals  these  truths,  they  are  so  deeply 
impressed  upon  our  souls  as  to  show  us  clearly  that  we  could 
not  in  so  short  a  time  acquire  them  ourselves.  I  was  also  left 
with  very  little  fear  of  death,  of  which  previously  I  had  been  very 
much  afraid.  Now  it  seems  to  me  very  easy  for  one  who  serves 
God,  for  in  a  moment  the  soul  finds  itself  freed  from  this  prison 
and  at  rest.  This  experience,  in  which  God  bears  away  the  spirit 
in  these  transports  and  shows  it  such  excellent  things,  seems  to 
me  very  much  like  that  in  which  a  soul  leaves  the  body;  for  it 
finds  itself  in  possession  of  all  these  good  things  in  a  single  instant. 
We  may  leave  out  of  account  the  pains  of  the  moment  of  its 
flight,  to  which  no  great  importance  need  be  attached:  to  those 
who  love  God  in  truth  and  have  put  aside  the  things  of  this  world 
death  must  come  very  gently. 

I  think,  too,  that  this  experience  has  been  of  great  help  to 
me  in  teaching  me  where  our  true  home  is  and  in  showing  me 
that  on  earth  we  are  but  pilgrims;  it  is  a  great  thing  to  see  what  is 
awaiting  us  there  and  to  know  where  we  are  going  to  live. 
For  if  a  person  has  to  go  and  settle  in  another  country,  it  is 
a  great  help  to  him  in  bearing  the  trials  of  the  journey  if  he  has 
found  out  that  it  is  a  country  where  he  will  be  able  to  live  in 
complete  comfort.  It  also  makes  it  easy  for  us  to  die  if  we  think 
upon  heavenly  things  and  try  to  have  our  conversation  in  Heaven. 
This  is  a  great  advantage  for  us:  merely  to  look  up  towards  the 
heavens  makes  the  soul  recollected,  for,  as  the  Lord  has  been 
pleased  to  reveal  some  part  of  what  is  there,  the  thought  dwells 
upon  it.  It  sometimes  happens  that  those  with  whom  I  keep 
company,  and  whose  presence  comforts  me,  are  those  who  I 
know  live  in  Heaven:  they,  it  seems  to  me,  are  the  people  who  are 
really  alive,  while  those  who  live  on  earth  are  so  dead  that  it 
seems  as  if  there  is  no  one  in  the  whole  world  who  can  be  a 
companion  to  me,  especially  when  those  vehement  impulses 
come  upon  me. 

Everything  I  see  is  like  a  dream  and  what  I  see  with  my  bodily 
eyes  is  a  mockery.  What  my  soul  desires  is  what  I  have  seen  with 
the  eyes  of  the  soul;  and,  finding  itself  so  far  away -from  it  all, 
it  desires  death.  In  short,  this  is  a  very  great  favour  that  the  Lord 
grants  to  those  on  whom  He  bestows  such  visions,  for  by  so  doing 
He  helps  them  greatly,  yet  at  the  same  time  gives  them  a  heavy 
cross  to  carry,  for  all  the  things  they  have  are  powerless  to  satisfy 
them,  but  are  simply  impediments.  If  the  Lord  were  not  some- 


LIFE  [CHAP. 

times  to  allow  these  visions  to  be  forgotten  (though  later  they 
return  to  the  remembrance)  , 1  do  not  know  how  one  could  live. 
Blessed  be  He  and  praised  for  ever  and  ever!  May  His  Majesty 
grant,  by  the  blood  which  His  Son  shed  for  me,  that,  seeing  He 
has  been  pleased  to  give  me  some  understanding  of  these  great 
blessings,  and  I  have  in  some  degree  begun  to  enjoy  them,  I 
may  not  share  the  fate  of  Lucifer,  who  by  his  own  fault  lost 
everything.  For  His  own  sake  may  He  not  allow  this ;  sometimes 
I  Tiave  no  little  fear  that  He  will,  although,  as  a  general  rule, 
the  mercy  of  God  gives  me  assurance,  for,  as  He  has  delivered 
me  from  so  many  sins,  He  will  not  let  me  out  of  His  hand  and 
permit  me  to  be  lost.  I  beg  Your  Reverence  to  beg  this  of  Him 
for  me  always. 

The  favours  I  have  already  mentioned  are  not,  I  think,  as  great 
as  one  which  I  shall  now  describe,  for  many  reasons  and  because 
of  the  great  blessings  which  it  has  bestowed  on  me,  together  with 
great  fortitude  of  soul,  although  each  of  these  favours,  considered 
by  itself,  is  so  great  that  there  is  nothing  with  which  it  can  be 
compared.1 

One  day — it  was  the  vigil  of  Pentecost — I  went,  after  Mass, 
to  a  very  solitary  spot,2  where  I  used  often  to  say  my  prayers,  and 
began  to  read  about  this  festival  in  the  Carthusian's  Life  of 
Christ.  *  As  I  read  about  the  signs  by  which  beginners,  proficients 
and  perfect  may  know  if  the  Holy  Spirit  is  with  them,  it  seemed 
to  me,  when  I  had  read  about  these  three  states,  that  by  the 
goodness  of  God,  and  so  far  as  I  could  understand.  He  was 
certainly  with  me  then.  For  this  I  praised  God  and  remembered 
a  previous  occasion  when  I  had  read  this  passage  and  when  I 
lacked  much  that  I  now  have;  this  I  saw  very  clearly,  and,  as  I 
became  aware  how  different  I  am  now,  I  realized  what  a  great 
favour  the  Lord  had  granted  me.  So  I  began  to  meditate  on 
the  place  in  hell  which  I  deserved  for  my  sins,  and  I  gave  great 
praises  to  God,  for  so  changed  was  my  life  that  I  seemed  not  to 
recognize  my  own  soul.  While  I  was  meditating  in  this  way  a 
strong  impulse  seized  me  without  my  realizing  why.  It  seemed 
as  if  my  soul  were  about  to  leave  the  body,  because  it  could  no 

1  [Gf.  Translator's  Preface,  p.  xx,  above.] 

^  a  Anxious  to  make  the  life  of  the  Reform  as  similar  as  possible  to  that  of  the  primi- 
tive Carmelites,  St.  Teresa  had  a  number  of  hermitages  made  at  St.  Joseph's,  Avila 
and  her  other  foundations.  At  the  time  of  her  Beatification  there  were  four  of  these 
in  the  garden  of  St.  Joseph's  and  one  -within  the  convent  itself.  To-day,  alsOj  there 
are  four,  but  in  the  shape  of  divisions  of  a  single  building. 

8  The  Life  of  Chnst,  written  in  Latin  by  Ludolph  of  Saxony,  a  Carthusian,  was 
translated  into  Spanish  by  Ambrosio  de  Montesinos  about  1502  under  the  title  Vita 
Christi  tartntxano.  It  is  one  of  the  books  which  St.  Teresa  recommends  to  her  nuns 
in  her  Constitutions  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  220,  below).  It  is  often  referred  to  as  "the  Carth- 
usian*' and  its  two  parts  as  "the  first"  and  "the  second  Carthusian*'  respectively. 


XXXVIII]  LIFE  271 

longer  contain  itself  and  was  incapable  of  waiting  for  so  great  a 
blessing.  The  impulse  was  so  exceedingly  strong  that  it  made 
me  quite  helpless.  It  was  different,  I  think,  from  those  which 
I  had  experienced  on  other  occasions,  and  I  did  not  know  what 
was  the  matter  with  my  soul,  or  what  it  wanted,  so  changed 
was  it.  I  had  to  seek  some  physical  support,  for  so  completely 
did  my  natural  strength  fail  me  that  I  could  not  even  remain 
seated. 

While  in  this  condition,  I  saw  a  dove  over  my  head,  very 
different  from  those  we  see  on  earth,  for  it  had  not  feathers  like 
theirs  but  its  wings  were  made  of  little  shells  which  emitted  a 
great  brilliance.  It  was  larger  than  a  dove;  I  seemed  to  hear 
the  rustling  of  its  wings.  It  must  have  been  fluttering  like  this 
for  the  space  of  an  Ave  Maria.  But  my  soul  was  in  such  a  state 
that,  as  it  became  lost  to  itself,  it  also  lost  sight  of  the  dove.  My 
spirit  was  calmed  by  so  gracious  a  guest,  though  I  think  it  must 
have  been  disturbed  and  alarmed  at  experiencing  this  marvellous 
favour;  as  it  began  to  rejoice  in  it,  however,  its  fear  left  it,  and  with 
its  joy  came  a  return  of  its  tranquillity,  and  it  remained  in  rap- 
ture. 

The  glory  of  this  rapture  was  surpassingly  great;  for  most 
of  the  festal  season  I  was  so  bewildered  and  stupid  that  I  did  not 
know  what  to  do  or  how  I  could  be  capable  of  receiving  so  great 
a  favour  and  grace.  It  was  as  if  I  could  neither  hear  nor  see, 
so  great  was  my  inward  joy.  From  that  time  forward  I  became 
conscious  of  the  greatest  progress  in  the  highest  love  of  God  and 
of  a  very  great  strengthening  in  virtue.  May  He  be  blessed  and 
praised  for  ever.  Amen. 

On  another  occasion  I  saw  the  same  dove  over  the  head  of  a 
Father  of  the  Order  of  Saint  Dominic,  though  I  thought  the  rays 
and  the  brightness  of  its  wings  extended  much  farther.  I  took 
this  to  mean  that  he  was  to  draw  souls  to  God. 

On  another  occasion  I  saw  Our  Lady  putting  a  pure  white 
cope  on  a  Presentado  of  this  same  Order  of  whom  I  have  several 
times  spoken.1  She  told  me  that  she  was  giving  him  that  vestment 
because  of  the  service  he  had  rendered  her  in  helping  in  the 
foundation  of  this  house,  and  as  a  sign  that  from  that  time  forward 
his  soul  would  remain  pure  and  that  he  would  not  fall  into  mortal 
sin.  I  am  sure  that  this  came  true,  for  a  few  years  later  he  died, 
and  both  his  death  and  the  last  years  of  his  life  were  marked  by 
such  penitence,  and  his  life  and  death  were  so  holy,  that,  as  far 
as  one  can  understand,  there  is  no  possibility  of  doubt  about  it* 
A  friar  who  had  been  present  when  he  died  informed  me  that, 

1  According  to  Grecian's  notes,  both  this  and  the  preceding  paragraph  refer  to  P. 
Ibdnez. 


272  LIFE  [CHAP. 

before  passing  away,  he  had  told  him  that  Saint  Thomas  was 
with  him.  He  died  with  great  joy  and  with  a  longing  to  depart 
from  this  exile.1  Since  then  he  has  several  times  appeared 
to  ine  in  very  great  glory  and  told  me  a  number  of  things.  He 
was  such  a  man  of  prayer  that  although,  before  he  died,  he  was 
so  weak  that  he  would  have  liked  to  cease  praying,  he  was  so 
often  in  rapture  that  he  could  not  do  so.  Shortly  before  his  death, 
he  wrote  to  me  to  ask  what  he  ought  to  do;  for  no  sooner  had  he 
finished  saying  Mass  than  he  would  go  for  a  long  time  into 
rapture  and  was  quite  unable  to  prevent  himself  from  doing  so.  In 
the  end,  God  gave  him  the  reward  of  the  many  services  which 
he  had  rendered  Him  during  his  whole  life. 

With  regard  to  the  Rector  of  the  Company  of  Jesus,  whom 
I  have  already  mentioned  several  times,2  I  have  had  a  number 
of  visions  of  the  great  favours  which  the  Lord  was  bestowing 
upon  him9  but,  lest  I  should  write  at  too  great  length,  I  am  not 
setting  them  down  here.  It  once  happened  that  he  was  in  great 
trouble,  having  been  sorely  persecuted  and  finding  himself  in 
great  distress.  One  day,  when  I  was  hearing  Mass,  at  the  eleva- 
tion of  theJHost  I  saw  Christ  on  the  Cross.  He  spoke  certain  words 
to  me,  which  He  told  me  to  repeat  to  the  Rector  for  his  comfort, 
and  He  added  other  things  to  warn  him  of  what  was  to  come  and 
to  remind  him  of  what  He  had  suffered  for  him  and  how  he  too 
must  prepare  to  suffer.  This  brought  him  great  comfort  and  gave 
him  courage  and  everything  has  since  happened  as  the  Lord  told 
me  it  would. 

Concerning  the  members  of  the  Order  to  which  this  Father 
belongs — namely,  the  Company  of  Jesus3 — and  of  the  entire 
Order  itself,  I  have  seen  great  things.  On  several  occasions  I 
saw  these  Fathers  in  Heaven  with  white  banners  in  their  hands, 
and,  as  I  say,  I  have  seen  other  things  concerning  them  which  give 
cause  for  great  wonder.  Thus  I  hold  this  Order  in  great  venera- 
tion, for  I  have  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  its  members  and  I 

1  P.  Banez  adds  in  a  marginal  note.  "This  Father  died  Prior  of  Trianos."  The  note 
confirms  Gracidn's  statement  just  quoted    [It  also  helps  to  fix  the  date  of  the  book, 
as  P.  Ibinez  died  on  February  2,  1565.  Taken  in  conjunction  with  the  reference  to 
St  Teresa's  age  (p.  266,  above)  it  seems  to  give  us  almost  the  exact  date  of  the  com- 
position of  these  final  chapters.]  But  cf.  p.  3,  above. 

2  Graaan  and  Maria  de  San  Josd  assert  that  P  Alvarez  is  meant,  but  more  probably 
the  reference  is  to  P.  Caspar  de  Salazar. 

8  Luis  de  Leon,  in  the  tditto prirwep s,  altered  this  phrase  to  read:  "Concerning  those 
of  a  certain.  Order."  A  reason  suggested  for  this  is  that  in  Chap.  XL  St.  Teresa  says 
that  she  does  not  name  particular  Orders,  for  fear  of  invidiousness,  and  that  Fray 
Luis  thought  this  to  be  an  oversight.  In  another  place,  however,  he  leaves  intact  a 
reference  to  Dominicans  and  Franciscans  and  in  the  next  line  deletes  one  to  St. 
Ignatius  and  his  Society.  The  suppressions  are  more  probably  attributable  to  the 
strained  relations  existing  between  the  Society  and,  on  the  one  hand,  certain  religious 
Orders,  on  the  other,  the  University  of  Salamanca.  The  correct  reading  in  this  present 
passage  was  restored  by  the  Discalced  Carmelites  in  their  edition  of  1627. 


XXXVIII]  LIFE  273 

see  that  their  lives  are  in  conformity  with  what  the  Lord  has 
given  me  to  understand  about  them. 

One  night,  when  I  was  at  prayer,  the  Lord  began  to  talk 
to  me.  He  reminded  me  how  wicked  my  life  had  been  and  made 
me  feel  very  much  confused  and  distressed;  for,  although  He 
did  not  speak  severely,  His  words  caused  me  to  be  consumed 
with  distress  and  sorrow.  A  single  word  of  this  kind  makes  a 
person  more  keenly  aware  of  his  advance  in  self-knowledge  than 
do  many  days  spent  in  meditating  upon  his  own  wretchedness, 
for  it  bears  a  stamp  of  truth  the  reality  of  which  none  can  deny. 
He  pictured  to  me  the  earlier  movements  of  my  will,  showed 
me  how  vain  they  had  been,  and  told  me  that  I  must  prize  the 
desire  that  I  now  had  to  fix  upon  Him  a  will  which  had  spent 
itself  as  foolishly  as  mine  had  done,  and  that  He  would  accept 
this  desire.  On  other  occasions  He  told  me  to  remember  how  I 
used  to  think  it  honourable  to  oppose  His  honour.  On  others, 
again,  to  remember  what  I  owed  Him,  for  even  when  I  was 
dealing  Him  the  cruellest  of  blows,  He  was  bestowing  favours 
upon  me.  When  I  am  committing  any  faults — and  my  faults  are 
not  few — His  Majesty  makes  me  so  conscious  of  them  that  I 
feel  entirely  confused  with  shame,  and  so  numerous  are  they  that 
this  happens  often.  Sometimes  it  has  chanced  that  my  confessor 
has  rebuked  me,  and,  when  I  have  tried  to  find  comfort  in  prayer, 
I  have  been  soundly  rebuked  there  as  well. 

Let  me  now  return  to  what  I  was  saying.  As  the  Lord  began 
to  remind  me  of  the  wickedness  of  my  past  life,  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  tears  which  I  shed  at  having  till  then,  as  I  thought,  achieved 
nothing^  I  wondered  if  He  was  about  to  show  me  some  favour. 
For  it  is  quite  u^ual  for  the  Lord  to  grant  me  some  special  favour 
after  I  have  been  beside  myself  with  shame,  so  that  I  may  the 
better  realize  how  far  I  am  from  deserving  it;  I  think  this  must 
be  the  Lord's  doing.  Soon  after  this,  my  spirit  became  so  com- 
pletely transported  that  it  seemed  to  have  departed  almost 
wholly  from  the  body:  or,  at  least,  there  was  no  way  of  telling 
that  it  was  in  the  body.  I  saw  the  most  sacred  Humanity  in 
far  greater  glory  than  I  had  ever  seen  before.  I  saw  a  most  clear 
and  wonderful  representation  of  it  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father.  I 
cannot  possibly  explain  how  this  happened,  but,  without  seeing 
anything,  I  seemed  to  see  myself  in  the  presence  of  the  Godhead. 
I  was  amazed j  so  much  so  that  I  believe  several  days  must  have 
gone  by  before  I  was  completely  myself  again.  I  seemed  all  the 
time  to  have  present  with  me  that  Majesty  of  the  Son  of  God, 
although  not  in  the  same  way  as  in  the  first  vision.  This  I  was 
quite  well  able  to  understand,  but  it  remained  so  indelibly  stamped 
upon  my  imagination  that  for  some  time,  quickly  as  it  passed,  I 


274  LIFE  [CHAP. 

could  not  rid  myself  of  it:  it  is  a  wonderful  comfort  to  me  and  it 
also  does  me  a  great  deal  of  good. 

I  have  beheld  this  same  vision  on  three  other  occasions:  I  think 
it  is  the  sublimest  vision  which  the  Lord  has  granted  me  grace 
to  see,  and  it  brings  with  it  the  greatest  benefits.  It  appears 
to  have  a  wonderfully  purifying  effect  upon  the  soul  and  almost 
entirely  destroys  the  power  of  our  sensual  nature.  It  is  a  great 
flame,  which  seems  to  burn  up  and  annihilate  all  life's  desires; 
for,  although — glory  be  to  God ! — I  had  no  desires  for  vain  things, 
I  was  clearly  shown  here  how  everything  was  vanity,  and  how 
vain,  how  completely  vain,  are  all  worldly  dignities.  This  is  a 
wonderful  way  of  teaching  the  soul  to  lift  up  its  desires  in  purity 
of  truth.  It  impresses  on  it  a  sense  of  reverence  which  I  cannot 
possibly  describe,  but  which  is  very  different  from  anything  that 
we  can  acquire  on  earth.  The  soul  becomes  astounded  when  it 
remembers  that  it  has  dared  to  offend  His  exceeding  great 
Majesty  and  that  there  is  anyone  else  who  can  dare  to  do  the 
same. 

I  must  have  spoken  several  times  of  these  effects  produced 
by  visions  and  other  experiences  of  that  kind,  but,  as  I  have  al- 
ready said,  there  are  greater  and  lesser  degrees  of  profit  to  be 
extracted  from  them,  and  it  is  this  kind  of  vision  that  causes  the 
greatest  profit  of  all*  Whenever  I  approached  the  altar  to  com- 
municate, and  remembered  that  exceeding  great  Majesty  which 
I  had  seen,  and  considered  that  it  was  He  Who  was  in  the  Most 
Holy  Sacrament  and  that  the  Lord  was  often  pleased  that  I 
should  see  Him  in  the  Host,  my  hair  would  stand  on  end  and  I 
would  feel  completely  annihilated.  O  my  Lord!  Didst  Thou 
not  cloak  Thy  greatness,  who  would  dare  to  come  so  often  to  the 
union  of  such  foulness  and  wretchedness  with  such  great  Majesty? 
Blessed  be  Thou,  Lord*  Let  the  angels  and  all  creatures  praise 
Thee,  Who  measurest  things  by  our  weakness,  so  that,  while 
we  are  rejoicing  in  Thy  sovereign  favours,  we  may  not  be  so  much 
affrighted  by  Thy  great  power  as  not  to  dare,  because  we  are 
weak  and  miserable  creatures,  to  rejoice  in  those  favours. 

We  might  have  the  same  experience  as  a  certain  peasant — 
and  this  is  a  thing  which  I  know  actually  happened.  He  found 
some  treasure,  much  more  valuable  than  his  dull  mind  was 
capable  of  grasping;  and  the  mere  possession  of  it  gradually 
brought  on  a  melancholy,  so  that  eventually  he  died  of  pure 
distress  and  worry  because  he  had  no  idea  what  to  do  with  it. 
If  he  had  not  found  it  all  at  once,  but  had  been  given  it  by 
degrees,  so  that  he  could  have  lived  upon  it,  he  would  have  been 
happier  than  when  he  was  poor  and  it  would  not  have  cost  him  his 
life. 


XXXVIII]  LIFE  275 

O  Wealth  of  the  poor,  how  wonderfully  canst  Thou  sustain 
souls,  revealing  Thy  great  riches  to  them  gradually  and  not 
permitting  them  to  see  them  all  at  once !  Since  the  time  of  that 
vision  I  have  never  seen  such  great  Majesty,  hidden  in  a  thing 
so  small  as  the  Host,  without  marvelling  at  Thy  great  wisdom. 
I  cannot  tell  how  the  Lord  gives  me  courage  or  strength  to 
approach  Him;  I  only  know  that  it  is  bestowed  on  me  by  Him 
Who  has  granted  me,  and  still  grants  me,  such  great  favours.  I 
could  never  possibly  conceal  this  or  refrain  from  proclaiming  aloud 
such  great  marvels.  What  must  be  the  feelings  of  a  wretch  like 
myself,  weighed  down  with  abominations,  who  has  gone  through 
life  with  so  little  fear  of  God,  when  she  finds  herself  approaching 
this  Lord  of  such  majesty,  Whose  will  it  is  that  my  soul  shall 
see  Him?  How  can  I  open  my  mouth,  which  has  uttered  so  many 
words  against  this  same  Lord,  to  receive  that  most  glorious  Body, 
full  of  purity  and  compassion?  For  the  soul,  knowing  that  it 
has  not  served  Him,  is  much  more  grieved  and  afflicted  by  the 
love  shining  in  that  face  of  such  great  beauty,  so  kindly  and  so 
tender,  than  it  is  affrighted  by  the  majesty  which  it  sees  in 
Him. 

What,  then,  must  my  feelings  have  been  on  two  occasions 
when  I  saw  the  things  that  I  shall  now  describe?  Indeed,  my 
Lord  and  my  Glory,  I  am  going  to  say  that  in  some  measure 
these  great  afflictions  experienced  by  my  soul  have  resembled 
acts  performed  in  Thy  service.  Ah,  I  know  not  what  I  am  saying, 
for  I  am  writing  this  almost  as  though  I  were  not  myself  speaking: 
I  find  I  am  troubled,  and  even  somewhat  distraught,  as  I  recall 
these  things  to  my  memory.  If  these  feelings  really  came  from  me, 
my  Lord,  I  might  well  say  that  I  had  done  something  for  Thee, 
but,  as  there  can  be  no  good  thoughts  unless  Thou  givest  them, 
no  thanks  for  them  can  be  due  to  me.  I,  Lord,  am  the  debtor, 
and  it  is  Thou  Who  hast  been  offended. 

Once,  when  I  was  about  to  communicate,  I  saw,  with  the 
eyes  of  the  soul,  -more  clearly  than  ever  I  could  with  those  of 
the  body,  two  devils  of  most  hideous  aspect.  Their  horns  seemed 
to  be  around  the  poor  priest's  throat;  and  when  I  saw  my  Lord, 
with  the  majesty  which  I  have  described,  in  the  hands  of  such 
a  man,  in  the  Host  which  he  was  about  to  give  me,  I  knew  for 
a  certainty  that  those  hands  had  offended  Him  and  realized 
that  here  was  a  soul  in  mortal  sin.  What  must  it  be,  my  Lord, 
to  see  that  beauty  of  Thine  between  two  such  hideous  forms?  In 
Thy  presence  they  seemed  so  cowed  and  terrified  that  I  think 
they  would  gladly  have  fled,  hadst  Thou  allowed  them  to  go. 
This  upset  me  so  much  that  I  do  not  know  how  I  was  able  to 
communicate,  and  I  was  sore  afraid,  for,  I  thought,  had  it  been 


sy6  LIFE  [CHAP. 

a  vision  from  God,  His  Majesty  would  not  have  allowed  me 
to  see  the  evil  that  was  in  that  soul.  Then  the  Lord  Himself 
told  me  to  pray  for  him  and  said  He  had  allowed  me  to  see  this 
so  that  I  might  realize  what  power  there  was  in  the  words  of 
consecration,  and  that,  however  wicked  the  priest  who  pro- 
nounces those  words  may  be,  God  is  always  present  without 
fail.  He  wanted  me  also  to  appreciate  His  great  goodness  in 
placing  Himself  in  the  hands  of  that  enemy  of  His,  and  this 
solely  for  my  good  and  for  the  good  of  all.  This  showed  me 
clearly  how  much  stricter  is  the  obligation  laid  upon  priests 
to  be  virtuous  than  upon  other  people,  and  what  a  terrible 
thing  it  is  to  take  this  Most  Holy  Sacrament  unworthily,  and 
how  complete  is  the  devil's  dominion  over  the  soul  that  is  in 
mortal  sin.  It  was  of  the  very  greatest  help  to  me  and  gave  me 
the  fullest  knowledge  of  what  I  owe  to  God.  May  He  be  blessed 
for  ever  and  ever. 

On  another  occasion  something  else  of  this  kind  happened 
to  me  which  gave  me  a  bad  fright.  I  was  in  a  place  where  a 
certain  person  had  died  after  leading  for  many  years,  as  I  knew, 
a  very  bad  life.  But  for  two  years  he  had  been  ill  and  in  some 
respects  seemed  to  have  mended  his  ways.  He  died  without 
making  his  confession,  but  in  spite  of  all  this  I  did  not  myself 
think  he  would  be  damned.  While  his  body  was  being  wrapped 
in  its  shroud,  I  saw  a  great  many  devils  taking  hold  of  it  and 
apparently  playing  with  it  and  treating  it  roughly.  I  was  horrified 
at  this:  they  were  dragging  it  about  in  turn  with  large  hooks. 
When  I  saw  it  being  taken  to  burial  with  the  same  honour  and 
ceremony  that  is  paid  to  all  dead  persons,  I  kept  thinking  upon 
the  goodness  of  God  Who  would  not  allow  that  soul  to  be 
dishonoured  but  permitted  the  fact  of  its  having  been  His 
enemy  to  be  concealed. 

After  what  I  had  seen  I  was  half  crazy.  During  the  whole  of 
the  funeral  office  I  saw  no  more  devils;  but  afterwards,  when 
the  body  was  laid  in  the  grave,  there  was  such  a  crowd  of  them 
waiting  there  to  take  possession  of  it  that  I  was  beside  myself 
at  the  sight  and  had  need  of  no  little  courage  to  hide  the  fact. 
If  they  were  taking  possession  like  this  of  the  unfortunate  body, 
I  reflected,  what  would  they  do  with  the  soul?  Would  to  God 
that  this  frightful  thing  which  I  saw  could  be  seen  by  everyone 
who  is  leading  an  evil  life !  I  think  it  would  be  a  great  incentive 
to  amendment.  All  this  makes  me  realize  better  what  I  owe 
to  God  and  what  He  has  saved  me, from.  Until  I  had  talked 
to  my  confessor  about  it  I  was  terribly  frightened,  wondering 
if  it  were  an  illusion  produced  by  the  devil  to  dishonour  that 
person's  soul,  though  he  was  not  considered  to  be  a  very  good 


XXXVIII]  LIFE  277 

Christian.  In  any  case,  illusion  or  no,  the  very  remembrance 
of  it  always  makes  me  afraid. 

Now  that  I  have  begun  to  talk  of  visions  about  the  dead,  - 1 
will  refer  to  some  matters,  in  connection  with  certain  souls, 
which  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  reveal  to  me.  For  brevity's 
sake  and  because  they  are  not  necessary — for  our  profit, 
I  mean — I  will  describe  only  a  few  of  them.  I  was  told  of  the 
death  of  a  former  Provincial  of  ours — at  the  time  of  his  death 
he  was  Provincial  of  another  province — whom  I  had  had  to  do 
with  and  had  reason  to  be  grateful  to  for  several  kindnesses.1 
He  had  been  a  person  of  many  virtues.  When  I  heard  of  his 
death,  I  was  greatly  perturbed,  for  I  was  fearful  about  his 
salvation,  as  he  had  been  a  superior  for  twenty  years — this 
always  causes  me  misgivings,  for  it  seems  to  me  a  very  dangerous 
thing  to  have  the  charge  of  souls.  So,  greatly  distressed,  I  went 
to  an  oratory.  There  I  offered  on  his  behalf  all  the  good  I  had 
done  in  my  whole  life,  which  must  have  been  very  little,  and 
then  I  begged  the  Lord  to  make  up  the  deficiency  for  that  soul 
with  His  own  merits  so  as  to  deliver  it  from  purgatory. 

While  I  was  praying  to  the  Lord  for  him  to  the  best  of  my 
ability,  he  seemed  to  me  to  rise  up,  on  my  right  hand,  from 
the  depths  of  the  earth,  and  I  saw  him  ascend  to  Heaven  with 
the  greatest  joy.  He  had  actually  been  very  old,  but,  as  I  saw 
him  then,  he  seemed  to  be  about  thirty,  or  even  less,  and  his 
face  was  bright  and  shining.  This  vision  passed  very  quicklyj 
but  I  was  so  wonderfully  comforted  that  I  could  never  again 
grieve  about  his  death,  although  I  found  people  greatly  dis- 
tressed by  it,  for  he  was  very  much  loved.  So  greatly  was  my 
soul  comforted  that  nothing  troubled  me  and  I  could  not  doubt 
that  this  was  a  genuine  vision — I  mean,  that  it  was  no  illusion. 
He  had  not  been  dead  more  than  a  fortnight  at  the  time;  none 
the  less,  I  did  not  cease  trying  to  get  people  to  commend  him 
to  God  and  to  do  so  myself,  except  that  I  could  not  pray  with 
the  same  fervour  as  if  I  had  not  seen  this  vision;  for,  once  the 
Lord  had  revealed  him  to  me  in  that  way,  I  could  not  help 
feeling  that  to  want  to  commend  him  to  His  Majesty  was  like 
giving  alms  to  a  rich  man.  I  heard  later  about  the  kind  of  death 
which  the  Lord  granted  him — for  he  died  a  long  way  from  here. 
It  was  one  which  caused  me  great  edification;  he  was  in  such 
complete  possession  of  his  faculties  when  he  died,  and  so  repentant 
and  humble,  that  everyone  was  astounded. 

A  nun  who  had  been  a  great  servant  of  God  had  died  in  our 

1  This  could  not  be  P.  Salazar,  who  was  still  alive  when  the  book  was  completed.  It 
may  be  P.  Gregorio  Fernandez  (p.  2250,  above),  whom  we  know  to  have  been  Prior  of 
Avila  in  1541  and  Provincialjm  1551-3  and  1559-61. 


278  LIFE  [CHAP. 

house1,  and  rather  more  than  a  day  and  a  half  later  there  occurred 
the  following  incident.  The  office  for  the  departed  was  being 
said  for  her  in  choir;  a  nun  was  reading  the  lesson;  and  I  was 
standing  there  to  assist  her  with  the  versicle.  Half  way  through 
the  lesson  I  saw  the  dead  sister:  her  soul  seemed  to  be  rising 
on  my  right  hand,  as  in  the  preceding  vision,  and  to  be  going 
up  to  Heaven.  This  was  not  an  imaginary  vision,  as  the  last 
had  been,  but  was  like  the  others  to  which  I  have  referred 
already.  There  is  no  more  reason  for  doubting  it,  however, 
than  for  doubting  visions  which  are  seen. 

Another  nun  who  died  in  this  same  house  of  mine  was  about 
eighteen  to  twenty  years  old.  She  had  always  had  poor  health; 
and  she  served  God  well  and  was  fond  of  choir  and  very  virtuous. 
I  certainly  thought  she  would  not  have  to  go  to  purgatory, 
for  not  only  had  she  suffered  much  from  illness  but  she  had 
superabundant  merits.  About  four  hours  after  her  death,  while 
the  Hours  were  being  said  before  she  was  buried,  I  perceived 
her  in  the  same  place,  ascending  to  Heaven, 

Once  I  was  in  a  College  of  the  Company  of  Jesus,  suffering 
severely  in  soul  and  body,  as  I  have  said  I  sometimes  used  to, 
and  still  do,  to  such  an  extent  that  I  was  hardly  capable  of 
thinking  a  single  good  thought.  On  that  night  a  brother  of 
that  house  of  die  Company  had  died2;  and,  while  I  was  com- 
mending him  to  God  as  well  as  I  was  able,  and  hearing  a  Mass 
which  was  being  said  for  him  by  another  Father  of  the  Company, 
I  became  deeply  recollected  and  saw  him  ascending  to  Heaven 
in  great  glory,  and  the  Lord  ascending  with  him.  I  under- 
stood that  it  was  by  a  special  favour  that  His  Majesty  bore  him 
company. 

Another  friar  of  our  Order — -a  very  good  friar — was  extremely 
ills;  and  while  I  was  at  Mass  I  became  recollected  and  saw 
that  he  was  dead  and  was  ascending  into  Heaven  without  passing 
through  purgatory.  He  had  died,  as  I  afterwards  heard,  at  the 
very  hour  at  which  I  saw  him,  I  was  amazed  that  he  had  not 
gone  to  purgatory.  I  learned  that,  as  he  had  been  a  friar  who 
had  faithfully  observed  his  Rule,  the  Bulls  of  the  Order  had 
been  of  avail  to  save  him  from  going  there.  I  do  not  know 
why  I  was  allowed  to  learn  this:  I  think  it  must  have  been  to 
teach  me  that  being  a  friar  does  not  consist  in  a  habit — I  mean, 

1  This  must  refer  to  the  Incarnation,  for9  when  these  lines  were  written,  all  the 
nuns  of  St  Joseph's  were  still  living.  There  are  independent  testimonies  to  this 
occurrence 

'This  was  Alonso  de  Henao,  who  had  come  from  the  Jesuit  College  at  Alcala  and 
died  on  April  u,  1557. 

*  "Fray  Matte,"  says  Grecian's  note.  His  full  name  was  Diego  (de  San)  Matfas; 
for  some  tone  he  was  confessor  at  the  Incarnation. 


XXXVIII]  LIFE  279 

in  the  wearing  of  the  habit — and  that  this  does  not  in  itself 
imply  the  state  of  greatest  perfection,  which  is  that  of  a  frian 

I  will  say  no  more  of  these  matters,  for,  as  I  have  said,  it  is 
unnecessary  for  me  to  do  so,  though  the  Lord  has  granted  me 
the  favour  of  seeing  a  great  many  such  things.  But  from  none 
of  the  visions  that  I  have  seen  have  I  ever  gathered  that  any 
soul  has  escaped  purgatory  save  the  souls  of  this  Father,  of  the 
saintly  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara  and  of  the  Dominican  Father 
whom  I  have  mentioned,1  The  Lord  has  been  pleased  that  I 
should  see  the  degrees  of  glory  to  which  some  persons  have 
been  raised  and  has  shown  them  to  me  in  the  places  which  have 
been  assigned  to  them.  There  is  a  great  difference  between  some 
of  these  places  and  others. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Continues  the  same  subject  and  tells  of  the* great  favours  which  the  Lord 
has  shown  her.  Describes  His  promises  to  her  on  behalf  of  persons 
for  whom  she  might  pray  to  Him.  Tells  of  some  outstanding  res- 
pects  in  which  His  Majesty  has  granted  her  this  favour. 

I  was  once  earnestly  importuning  the  Lord  to  give  sight  to 
a  person  to  whom  I  was  under  a  certain  obligation  and  who 
was  almost  entirely  blind;  I  was  very  sorry  for  him  and  feared 
that  the  Lord  would  not  hear  me  because  of  my  sins.  He  appeared 
to  me  as  on  former  occasions,  began  by  showing  me  the  wound 
in  His  left  hand,  and  then,  with  the  other  hand,  drew  out  a 
laxge  nail  which  was  embedded  in  it,  in  such  a  way  that  in 
drawing  out  the  nail  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  tearing  the  flesh. 
It  was  clear  how  very  painful  this  must  be  and  I  was  sorely 
grieved  at  it.  Then  He  said  to  me  that  surely,  if  He  had  borne 
that  for  me,  He  would  even  more  readily  do  whatever  I  asked 
Him;  that  He  promised  me  I  should  never  ask  Him  anything 
which  He  would  not  grant;  that  He  knew  I  should  never  ask 
anything  that  did  not  tend  to  His  glory;  and  that  therefore  He 
would  do  what  I  was  now  asking  of  Him.  I  must  remember, 
He  added,*  that,  even  in  the  days  when  I  did  not  serve  Him, 
I  had  never  asked  Him  for  anything  which  He  had  not  granted 
in  a  better  way  than  I  could  have  planned;  how  much  more 
readily  still  would  He  not  do  it  now  that  He  knew  I  loved  Him? 
Of  that  I  must  have  no  doubt,  I  do  not  think  a  ftJl  week  had 
passed  Before  the  Lord  restored  that  person's  sight.  My  con- 

*P.  Jbifiez. 


s8o  LIFE  [CHAP. 

fessor  heard  of  it  at  once.  It  may  not,  of  course,  have  been  due 
to  my  prayer;  but,  as  I  had  seen  this  vision,  I  felt  certain  that 
it  was  a  favour  granted  to  me  and  I  gave  His  Majesty  thanks 
for  it. 

On  another  occasion  there  was  a  person1  very  ill  with  a  most 
painful  malady,  which,  as  I  do  not  know  its  exact  nature,  I 
shall  not  now  describe.  His  sufferings  for  two  months  had  been 
intolerable  and  he  was  in  such  torture  that  he  would  lacerate 
his  own  body.  My  confessor,  the  Rector  I  have  mentioned, 
who  went  to  see  him,  was  very  sorry  for  him  and  told  me  that 
I  must  certainly  pay  him  a  visit — and  it  was  possible  for  me 
to  do  this,  as  he  was  a  relative  of  mine.  I  went  and  was  moved 
to  such  pity  for  him  that  I  began  with  great  importunity  to 
beg  the  Lord  to  cure  him.  This  showed  me  clearly  the  way 
in  which,  as  I  firmly  believe,  He  favours  me,  for,  on  the  very 
next  day,  my  relative  was  completely  free  from  that  pain. 

I  was  once  in  the  deepest  affliction  because  I  learned  that  a 
person  to  whom  I  was  under  great  obligations  wanted  to  do 
something  which  militated  grievously  against  God  and  His 
honour  and  was  firmly  resolved  that  he  would.  I  was  so  worried 
about  this  that  I  did  not  know  what  means  I  could  employ  to 
dissuade  him:  it  seemed,  in  fact,  that  there  were  none,  I  besought 
God  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  to  give  me  some  such  means, 
but  until  I  found  them  I  could  get  no  relief  from  my  distress. 
While  things  were  in  that  position,  I  went  to  a  very  lonely 
hermitage,  of  which  this  convent  has  a  number,  and  which 
contains  a  representation  of  Christ  bound  to  the  Column,  r  and 
there  I  begged  Him  to  grant  me  this  favour.  Then  I  heard  a 
very  soft  voice,  speaking  to  me,  as  it  were,  in  a  whisper.  My 
whole  body  quivered  with  fear  and  I  tried  to  catch  what  the 
voice  was  saying,  but  I  could  not,  and  very  soon  it  was  gone. 
My  fear  quickly  left  me,  and,  when  it  had  passed,  I  experienced 
a  calm,  a  joy  and  an  inward  delight,  and  it  amazed  me  that 
the  mere  hearing  of  a  voice  with  the  bodily  ears,  unaccompanied 
by  any  understanding  of  what  it  said,  should  have  such  an 
effect  upon  the  soul.  I  saw  by  this  that  what  I  was  asking  of 
God  was  to  be  granted  me,  and,  although  this  had  not  then 
been  done,  my  distress  was  as  completely  removed  as  if  fit  had 
been.  I  told  my  confessors  of  it — for  at  that  time  I  had  two, 
very  learned  men  and  servants  of  God.2 

There  was  someone  who  I  knew  had  resolved  to  serve  God 
in  very  truth;  for  some  days  he  had  been  engaged  in  prayer,  in 
the  course  of  which  His  Majesty  had  granted  hjm  many  favours. 

1  "Her  cousin,  Pedro  Mexia  ",  according  to  Gracian.          * 

2  PP.  Bdflez  and  Garda  de  Toledo. 


XXXIX]  LIFE  281 

But  certain  occasions  of  sin  then  presented  themselves  and, 
instead  of  withdrawing  himself  from  these  occasions  of  sin,  which 
were  very  perilous,  he  gave  up  his  prayer.  This  caused  me  the 
greatest  distress,  for  he  was  a  person  whom  I  dearly  loved  and 
to  whom  I  was  much  indebted.  I  believe  more  than  a  month 
passed  during  which  I  did  nothing  but  beg  God  to  turn  this  soul 
to  Himself.  One  day,  when  I  was  at  prayer,  I  saw  beside  me  a 
devil,  in  a  great  fury,  tearing  up  some  papers  which  he  held 
in  his  hand.  This  brought  me  great  comfort,  for  I  thought  it 
meant  that  what  I  had  been  praying  for  was  granted  me.  And 
so  it  was,  for  I  afterwards  learned  that  this  man  had  made  a 
very  contrite  confession  and  had  so  truly  turned  to  God  that  I 
hope  in  His  Majesty  that  he  will  make  continual  progress.  Blessed 
be  He  for  everything!  Amen. 

In  answer  to  my  supplications  Our  Lord  has  frequently 
delivered  souls  from  grave  sins,  and  has  led  others  to  greater 
perfection.  As  to  rescuing  souls  from  purgatory  and  doing  other 
such  notable  things,  the  favours  which  He  has  granted  me  here 
are  so  numerous  that  I  should  be  fatiguing  myself,  and  fatiguing 
the  reader  too,  if  I  were  to  describe  them.  Many  more  of  them 
have  concerned  the  health  of  the  soul  than  the  health  of  the 
body.  This  fact  has  been  generally  recognized  and  there  have 
been  numerous  witnesses  to  it.  It  used  to  cause  me  great 
scruples,  for  I  could  not  help  believing  that  the  Lord  was  doing 
this  because  of  my  prayers — apart,  of  course,  from  the  chief 
reason,  which  is  His  pure  goodness.  But  now  these  favours  have 
become  so  numerous  and  have  been  observed  by  so  many  people 
that  it  causes  me  no  distress  to  believe  this.  I  praise  His  Majesty 
and  I  grow  ashamed,  because  I  see  I  am  more  His  debtor  than 
ever,  and  I  believe  He  increases  my  desires  to  serve  Him  and 
revives  my  love  for  Him.  What  astonishes  me  most  has  to  do 
with  favours  which  the  Lord  sees  are  not  good  for  me:  even  if 
I  try  to  do  so,  I  am  unable  to  beg  Him  to  grant  me  these;  when 
I  attempt  it,  my  prayers  have  very  little  power  or  spirituality 
or  concentration;  and,  however  much  I  try  to  force  myself  to 
do  more,  I  cannot.  Yet,  when  it  comes  to  other  things  which 
His  Majesty  means  to  grant,  I  find  that  I  can  ask  for  these  often 
and'  with/great  importunity,  and  though  I  may  not  be  specially 
thinking  of  them  they  seem  to  come  to  my  mind. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  these  two  ways  of  praying, 
which  I  do  not  know  how  to  explain.  When  I  pray  for  the  first 
kind  of  favour,  I  may  persist  in  forcing  myself  to  beg  the  Lord 
for  it,  yet,  even  if  it  is  a  thing  which  touches  me  nearly,  I  do 
not  feel  that  I  have  the  same  fervpur  as  in  praying  for  the  other 
kind,  I  am  like  a  person  whose  tongue  is  tied:  desire  to  speak 


282  LIFE  [CHAP. 

as  he  may,  he  cannot,  or  if  he  does  so  he  cannot  make  himself 
-understood.  In  the  other  case  I  am  like  a  person  speaking  clearly 
and  alertly  to  someone  whom  he  sees  to  be  eagerly  listening  to 
him.  The  first  type  of  prayer,  we  might  say,  is  Uke  vocal  prayer; 
the  other  is  like  contemplation  so  sublime  that  the  Lord  reveals 
Himself,  and  so  we  know  His  Majesty  is  hearing  us  and  rejoicing 
at  what  we  are  asking  of  Him  and  delighting  to  bestow  it  upon 
us.  May  He  be  blessed  for  ever,  Who  gives  so  much  when  I 
give  Him  so  little.  For  what  can  a  man  accomplish,  my  Lord, 
who  does  not  wholly  abase  himself  for  Thy  sake?1  How  far — 
oh,  how  far,  how  very  far!  I  could  say  it  a  thousand  times — 
am  I  from  doing  this!  It  is  because  I  am  not  living  as  I  should, 
in  view  of  what  I  owe  Thee,  that  I  cannot  desire  to  live  at  all, 
though  there  are  other  reasons  for  this  also.  How  many  imperfections 
do  I  find  in  myself!  How  feebly  do  I  serve  Thee !  Sometimes  I 
could  really  wish  I  were  devoid  of  sense,  for  then  I  should  not 
understand  how  much  evil  is  in  me.  May  He  Who  is  able  to 
do  so  grant  me  succour! 

While  I  was  in  the  house  of  that  lady  whom  I  have  mentioned.2 
I  had  to  be  careful  of  my  behaviour  and  constantly  bear  in  mind 
the  vanity  inseparable  from  everything  in  this  life,  because  of 
the  high  esteem  and  the  great  praise  which  were  bestowed  on 
me  and  the  numerous  things  to  which,  had  I  looked  only  to 
myself,  I  might  have  become  attached.  But  He  Who  sees  things 
in  their  true  light  looked  favourably  upon  me  and  suffered  me 
not  to  escape  out  of  His  hand. 

Speaking  of  seeing  things  in  their  true  light,  I  call  to  mind  the 
great  trials  which  have  to  be  borne  in  their  dealings  with  others 
by  persons  "to  whom  God  has  given  a  knowledge  of  what  is 
meant  by  truth  in  earthly  matters;  for  on  earth,  as  the  Lord 
once  said  to  me,  there  is  so  much  dissembling.  Much  that  I 
am  writing  here  does  not  come  out  of  my  own  head;  I  have 
been  told  it  by  this  Heavenly  Master  of  mine;  and  so,  in  places 
where  I  distinctly  say  "I  was  told  this"  or  "The  Lord  told  me", 
I  am  extremely  scrupulous  about  adding  or  subtracting  so  much 
as  a  single  syllable.  When  I  do  not  remember  everything  exactly, 
then,  it  must  be  understood  that  it  comes  from  me  and  some 
of  the  things  I  say  will  come  from  me  altogether.  Anything 
that  is  good  I  do  not  attribute  to  myself,  for  I  know  there  is 
nothing  good  in  me  save  what  the  Lord  has  given  me  without 
my  deserving  it.  When  I  say  that  a  thing  has  "come  from 
me",  I  mean  that  it  was  not  told  me  in  a  revelation. 

*  [Aa  untranslatable  play  upon  wrcU:  the  two  verbs  are  "do"  (haee)  and  "undo" 
(desteice).] 
1  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Cerda. 


XXXIX]  LIFE  288 

But,  O  my  God,  how  is  it  that  even  in  spiritual  matters  we 
often  try  to  interpret  things  in  our  own  way,  as  if  they  were 
worldly  things,  and  distort  their  true  meaning?  We  think  we 
can  measure  our  progress  by  the  number  of  years  during  which 
we  have  been  practising  prayer.  We  even  seem  to  be  trying 
to  set  a  measure  to  Him  Who  bestows  on  us  measureless  gifts, 
and  Who  can  give  more  to  one  person  in  six  months  than  to 
another  in  many  years.  This  is  something  which  I  have  so 
often  observed,  and  in  so  many  people,  that  I  am  amazed  to 
find  we  can  act  so  pettily. 

I  am  quite  sure  that  no  one  will  be  deceived  in  this  way  for 
long  if  he  has  a  gift  for  the  discernment  of  spirits  and  if  the 
Lord  has  given  him  true  humility:  such  a  person  will  judge 
these  spirits  by  their  fruits  and  their  resolutions  and  their  love, 
and  the  Lord  will  give  him  light  to  recognize  these.  What  He 
considers  here  is  not  the  years  which  people  have  spent 
in  prayer  but  the  extent  to  which  their  souls  have  advanced 
and  made  progress;  for  one  soul  can  attain  as  much  in  six  months 
as  another  in  twenty  years,  since,  as  I  say,  the  Lord  gives  to 
whom  He  wills  and  also  to  him  who  is  best  prepared  to  receive. 
I  find  at  present  that  among  those  coining  to  this  convent  are 
a  number  of  girls,  quite  young  in  years.1  God  touches  their 
hearts  and  gives  them  a  little  light  and  love — I  mean,  during 
some  short  period  in  which  He  has  granted  them  consolation 
in  prayer.  They  have  not  been  expecting  this  and  they  put 
aside  every  other  consideration,  forgetting  even  their  meals,  and 
shut  themselves  up  for  good  in  a  convent  that  has  no  money, 
like  people  who  make  no  account  of  their  lives  for  the  sake 
of  Hun  Who  they  know  loves  them.  They  give  up  everything; 
they  have  no  wish  to  follow  their  own  desires;  and  it  never  occurs 
to  them  that  they  may  grow  discontented  in  a  place  so  circum- 
scribed and  so  strictly  enclosed.  They  offer  themselves  wholly, 
as  a  sacrifice,  to  God. 

How  glad  I  am  to  admit  that  they  are  better  than  I  and  how 
ashamed  of  myself  I  ought  to  be  in  God's  presence!  For  what 
His  Majesty  has  not  consummated  in  me  during  the  many 
years  that  have  elapsed  since  I  began  to  pray  and  He  began 
to  grant  me  favours,  He  consummates  in  them  in  three  months — 
sometimes  even  in  three  days — though,  while  amply  rewarding 
them,  His  Majesty  gives  them  far  fewer  favours  than  He  gives 
me,  They  have  most  certainly  no  cause  to  be  dissatisfied  with 
what  they  have  done  for  Him, 

1  St.  Teresa  may  be  thinking  of  Francisco  de  Cepeda's  daughter,  who  professed 
on  October  »i,  1564,  as  Isabel  de  San  Pablo,  at  the  age  of  seventeen.  Three  other 
young  girls — Maria  Bautista,  Maria  de  San  Jer6nimo  ana  Isabel  de  Santo  Domingo — 
took  the  habit  in  1563-4. 


284  LIFE  [CHAP, 

For  this  reason  I  should  like  those  of  us  who  have  been  pro- 
fessed for  many  years,  as  well  as  others  who  have  spent  long 
years  in  the  practice  of  prayer,  to  retrace  that  period  in  their 
memories.  I  have  no  desire,  however,  to  distress  those  who  in 
a  short  time  have  made  more  progress  than  ourselves  by  making 
them  turn  back  and  go  at  our  own  pace,  or  to  make  those  who, 
thanks  to  the  favours  given  them  by  God,  are  soaring  like  eagles 
move  like  hens  with  their  feet  tied.  Let  us  rather  fix  our  eyes 
on  His  Majesty,  and,  if  we  see  that  these  souls  are  humble, 
give  them  the  reins;  the  Lord,  who  is  showing  them  so  many 
favours,  will  not  allow  them  to  fling  themselves  down  a  preci- 
pice. They  themselves  put  their  trust  in  God  and  their  trust 
makes  the  truth  which  they  know  through  faith  of  avail  to  them. 
Shall  not  we,  then,  trust  them  too,  instead  of  trying  to  measure 
them  by  our  own  standards,  which  are  determined  by  the  petti- 
ness of  our  spirits?  That  we  must  never  do:  if  we  cannot 
produce  fruits  and  resolutions  equal  to  theirs,  which  cannot  be 
properly  understood  except  by  experience,  let  us  humble  our- 
selves and  not  condemn  them.  For,  by  our  apparent  regard 
for  their  profit,  we  shall  be  impeding  our  own,  as  well  as  losing 
this  opportunity,  sent  us  by  the  Lord,  of  humbling  ourselves 
and  understanding  our  own  faults;  and  we  shall  fail  to  realize 
how  much  more  detached  and  how  much  nearer  to  God  these 
souls  must  be  than  our  own  since  His  Majesty  is  drawing  so 
near  to  them. 

My  only  intention  here — and  I  do  not  wish  to  suggest  that 
I  have  any  other — is  to  explain  why  I  value  prayer  which  has 
lasted  for  only  a  short  time  and  yet  is  producing  fruits  so  notable 
and  so  quickly  apparent;  for  we  cannot  resolve  to  leave  every- 
thing, in  order  to  please  God,  without  great  potency  of  love. 
I  prefer  this  to  prayer  which  has  continued  for  many  years, 
but  which,  neither  first  nor  last,  produces  any  more  resolutions 
to  do  things  for  God  than  a  few  of  no  weight  or  bulk,  like  grains 
of  salt,  which  a  bird  might  carry  in  its  beak,  and  which  we 
cannot  consider  as  fruits  of  prayer  or  signs  of  great  mortification. 
Sometimes  we  attribute  importance  to  things  we  do  for  the  Lord 
which,  however  numerous  they  may  be,  cannot  fairly  be  so 
considered*  I  am  like  that  myself— and  I  forget  His  favours  at 
every  moment.  I  do  not  say  that  His  Majesty  will  not  value 
the  services  I  have  rendered  Him,  since  He  is  so  gracious,  but 
I  have  no  wish  to  set  store  by  them  myself,  or  even  to  notice 
it  when  I  do  them,  since  they  are  nothing.  Forgive  me,  then, 
my  Lord,  and  blame  me  not  if  I  try  to  take  comfort  from  any- 
thing I  do,  since  I  am  of  no  real  service  to  Thee:  if  I  served 
Thee  in  great  matters,  I  should  set  no  store  by  these  nothing- 


XXXIXJ  LIFE  285 

nesses.  Blessed  are  they  who  serve  Thee  by  doing  great  deeds. 
If  I  could  accomplish  anything  by  merely  envying  them  and 
desiring  to  imitate  them  I  should  not  be  backward  in  pleasing 
Thee.  But  I  am  of  no  worth,  my  Lord.  Do  Thou  put  worth 
into  what  I  do,  since  Thou  hast  such  love  for  me. 

One  day,  after  I  had  obtained  a  Brief  from  Rome  empowering 
me  to  found  this  convent  without  providing  any  revenue  for 
it,1  and  the  whole  business,  which  I  think  really  cost  me  some 
trouble,  had  been  brought  to  a  conclusion,  I  was  feeling  glad 
that  it  had  been  accomplished  in  this  way  and  thinking  over 
the  trials  which  it  had  cost  me,  and  praising  the  Lord  for  having 
been  pleased  to  make  some  use  of  me.  Then  I  began  to  think 
of  the  things  which  I  had  gone  through.  And  it  is  a  fact  that 
in  every  action  of  mine  which  I  thought  had  been  of  some  value 
I  found  any  number  of  faults  and  imperfections.  In  some  of 
them,  too,  I  discovered  signs  of  faint-heartedness,  and  in  many 
of  them  a  lack  of  faith.  I  can  see  now  that  all  the  Lord  told 
me  would  happen  with  regard  to  this  house  has  been  accom- 
plished, but  previously  I  had  never  been  able  to  bring  myself 
resolutely  to  believe  that  it  would  be  so,  and  yet  I  could  not 
doubt  that  it  would  either.  I  cannot  explain  this.  But  the  position 
is  that  while,  on  the  one  hand,  it  seemed  to  me  impossible,  on 
the  other  I  could  not  doubt  it — I  mean,  I  could  not  believe 
that  it  would  not  turn  out  as  the  Lord  had  said.  Eventually 
I  found  that  He,  on  His  side,  had  done  all  the  good  things,  and 
I  had  done  all  the  bad  things,  and  so  I  stopped  thinking  about 
it;  and  I  have  no  further  desire  to  remember  it  lest  I  should 
recall  to  mind  all  my  faults.  Blessed  be  He  Who,  when  such  is 
His  will,  brings  good  out  of  them  all!  Amen. 

As  I  say,  then,  it  is  dangerous  to  keep  counting  the  years 
during  which  we  have  practised  prayer,  for,  even  though  we 
may  do  so  with  humility,  it  is  a  habit  which  seems  to  leave  us 
with  a:  feeling  that  we  have  won  some  merit  by  serving  God. 
I  do  not  mean  that  our  service  is  devoid  of  merit  or  that  it  will 
not  be  well  rewarded;  but  any  spiritual  person  who  thinks  that 
the  mere  number  of  years  he  has  practised  prayer  has  earned 
him  these  spiritual  consolations  will,  I  am  certain.,  fail  to  reach 
the  summit  of  spirituality.  Is  it  not  enough  that  God  has 
thought  him  worthy  to  be  taken  by  His  hand  and  kept  from 
the  offences  which  he  used  to  commit  before  he  practised  prayer? 
Must  he  sue  God,  as  we  say,  for  his  money's  worth?  This  does 
not  seem  to  me  very  deep  humility;  I  should  rather  call  it  pre- 

1  This  Brief  was  dated  July  17,  1565.  [If  it  took  as  long  as  its  predecessor  (p.  248, 
n.  i,  above)  to  reach  AvUa,  these  lines  cannot  have  been  written  before  the  very  end 
of  December  1565.  But  it  may,  of  course,  have  come  more  quickly.  Gf.  p.  4,  above.] 


286  LIFE  [CHAP. 

sumption.  My  own  humility  is  little  enough,  yet  I  do  not  think 
I  have  ever  dared  to  do  such  a  thing.  It  may  be,  however,  that 
I  have  never  asked  because  I  have  never  served  Him;  if  I  had, 
perhaps  I  should  have  been  more  anxious  than  anyone  else  for 
the  Lord  to  recompense  me. 

I  do  not  mean  that,  if  a  soul  has  been  humble  in  its  prayer, 
it  does  not  make  progress,  or  that  God  will  not  grant  us  progress: 
what  I  mean  is  that  we  should  forget  the  number  of  years  we 
have  served  Him,  for  the  sum  total  of  all  we  can  do  is  worthless 
by  comparison  with  a  single  drop  of  the  blood  which  the  Lord 
shed  for  us.  And  if,  the  more  we  serve  Him,  the  more  deeply 
we  fall  into  His  debt,  what  is  it  we  are  asking,  since,  when  we 
pay  a  farthing  of  our  debt,  He  gives  us  back  a  thousand  ducats? 
For  the  love  of  God,  let  us  leave  all  this  to  Him  to  judge,  for 
judgment  is  His.  Comparisons  of  this  kind  are  always  bad, 
even  in  earthly  matters:  what,  then,  will  they  be  in  questions 
of  which  only  God  has  knowledge?  And  this  His  Majesty  clearly 
showed  when  He  gave  the  same  payment  to  the  last  workers 
as  to  the  first.1 

It  has  taken  me  such  a  long  time  to  write  all  this  (the  last 
three  sheets  have  taken  as  many  days,  for,  as  I  have  said,  I 
have  had,  and  still  have,  little  opportunity  for  writing)  that  I 
had  forgotten  what  I  had  begun  to  describe — namely,  the 
following  vision.  While  I  was  at  prayer,  I  saw  myself  in  a  great 
field,  all  alone,  and  around  me  there  was  such  a  multitude  of 
all  kinds  of  people  that  I  was  completely  surrounded  by  them. 
They  all  seemed  to  have  weapons  in  their  hands  for  the  purpose 
of  attacking  me:  some  had  lances;  others,  swords;  others,  daggers; 
and  others,  very  long  rapiers.  Well,  I  could  not  get  away  in 
any  direction  without  incurring  mortal  peril,  and  I  was  quite 
alone  there,  without  anyone  on  my  side.  I  was  in  great  distress 
of  spirit,  and  had  no  idea  what  I  should  do,  when  I  raised  my 
eyes  to  Heaven,  and  saw  Christ,  not  in  Heaven,  but  in  the  air 
high  above  me,  holding  out  His  hand  to  me  and  encouraging 
me  in  such  a  way  that  I  no  longer  feared  all  the  other  people, 
who,  try  as  they  might,  could  do  me  no  harm. 

This  vision  will  seem  meaningless,  but  it  has  since  brought  me 
the  greatest  profit,  for  its  meaning  was  explained  to  me,  and  soon 
afterwards  I  found  myself  attacked,  in  almost  exactly  that  way, 
whereupon  I  realized  that  the  vision  was  a  picture  of  the  world, 
the  whole  of  which  seems  to  take  up  arms  in  an  offensive  against 
the  poor  soul.  Leaving  out  of  account  those  who  are  not  great 
servants  of  the  Lord,  and  honours  and  possessions  and  pleasures 
and  other  things  of  that  kind,  it  is  clear  that,  when  the  soul  is  not 

1  St,  Matthew  xx,  10. 


XXXIX]  LIFE  287 

on  the  look-out,  it  will  find  itself  ensnared,  or  at  least  all  these 
will  strive  their  utmost  to  ensnare  it — friends,  relatives,  and,  what 
amazes  me  most,  very  good  people.  By  all  these  I  found  myself 
oppressed :  they  thought  they  were  doing  right  and  I  did  not  know 
how  to  stand  up  for  myself  or  what  to  do. 

Oh,  God  help  me !  If  I  were  to  describe  the  different  kinds  of 
trial  which  I  had  to  bear  at  this  time,  on  top  of  the  trials  I  have 
already  mentioned,  what  a  warning  it  would  be  to  people  that 
they  should  hate  everything  worldly  altogether!  Of  all  the 
persecutions  I  have  suffered,  this,  I  think,  has  been  the  worst. 
I  mean  that  I  found  myself  sorely  oppressed  on  every  side  and 
could  get  relief  only  by  raising  my  eyes  to  Heaven  and  calling 
upon  God.  I  kept  clearly  in  mind  what  I  had  seen  in  this  vision. 
It  was  of  great  help  to  me  in  teaching  me  not  to  put  much  trust  in 
anyone,  for  there  is  none  who  never  changes  save  God.  In  these 
sore  trials  the  Lord  always  sent  me  some  person  coming  from  Him 
who  would  lend  me  a  hand,  exactly  as  He  had  shown  me  that  He 
would,  and  had  revealed  it  to  me  in  this  vision,  so  that  J  had  no 
need  to  cling  to  anything  but  pleasing  the  Lord.  This  has  served 
to  sustain  the  little  virtue  that  I  had  in  desiring  to  serve  Thee. 
Blessed  be  Thou  for  ever! 

Once,  when  I  was  very  restless  and  upset,  unable  to  recollect 
myself,  battling  and  striving,  turning  all  the  time  in  thought 
to  things  that  were  not  perfect,  and  imagining  I  was  not  as  de- 
tached as  I  used  to  be,  I  was  afraid,  seeing  how  wicked  I  was, 
that  the  favours  which  the  Lord  had  granted  me  might  be  illusions. 
In  short,  my  soul  was  in  great  darkness.  While  I  was  distressed 
in  this  way,  the  Lord  began  to  speak  to  me  and  told  me  not  to  be 
troubled :  the  state  in  which  I  found  myself  would  show  me  how 
miserable  I  should  be  if  He  withdrew  from  me;  while  we  lived 
in  this  flesh  we  were  never  safe.  I  was  shown  how  well  our  time 
is  spent  in  warring  and  struggling  for  such  a  prize  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  Lord  was  sorry  for  those  of  us  who  live  in  the  world. 
But,  He  added,  I  was  not  to  think  myself  forgotten,  for  He  would' 
never  leave  me,  though  I  myself  must  do  all  that  lay  in  my  power. 
This  the  Lord  said  to  me  compassionately  and  tenderly,  as  well  as 
other  things  in  which  He  was  very  gracious  to  me  and  which  there 
is  no  need  to  repeat. 

Often  His  Majesty  says  to  me,  as  a  sign  of  His  great  love :  "Now 
thou  art  Mine  and  I  am  thine/'  There  are  some  words  which 
I  am  in  the  habit  of  repeating  to  myself— and  I  believe  I  mean 
what  I  say.  They  are:  "What  do  I  care  about  myself,  Lord,  or 
about  anything  but  Thee?"  When  I  remember  what  I  am,  these 
words  and  signs  of  love  cause  me  the  very  greatest  confusion;  for, 
as  I  believe  I  have  said  on  other  occasions  and  as  I  sometimes 


288  LIFE  [CHAP. 

say  now  to  my  confessor,  I  think  moie  courage  is  needed  for 
receiving  these  favours  than  for  suffering  the  sorest  trials.  When 
they  come,  I  almost  forget  the  good  I  have  done,  my  reason 
ceases  to  function  and  I  can  do  nothing  but  picture  to  myself 
my  own  wickedness :  this,  too,  I  sometimes  think,  is  supernatural. 

At  times  there  come  to  me  yearnings  for  Communion  so 
vehement  that  I  doubt  if  I  could  put  them  into  words.  One 
morning  it  happened  to  be  raining  so  heavily  that  I  thought  I 
could  not  leave  the  house.  But,  once  I  had  started,  I  was  so  much 
carried  away  by  my  desire  that,  even  if  the  raindrops  had  been 
spears  levelled  at  my  breast,  I  think  I  should  have  gone  on  through 
them — how  much  less  did  I  trouble  about  drops  of  water !  When 
I  reached  the  church,  I  fell  into  a  deep  rapture.  I  thought  I  saw, 
not  a  door  into  the  heavens,  as  I  have  seen  on  other  occasions, 
but  the  heavens  wide  open.  There  was  revealed  to  me  the 
throne  which,  as  I  told  Your  Reverence,  I  have  seen  at  other 
times,  and  above  it  another  throne,  on  which  (I  did  not  see  this, 
but  learned  it  in  a  way  I  cannot  explain)  was  the  Godhead.  The 
throne  seemed  to  me  to  be  held  up  by  some  beasts;  I  think  I  have 
heard  something  about  these  animals — I  wondered  if  they  were 
the  Evangelists. l  But  I  could  not  see  what  the  throne  was  like, 
or  Who  was  on  it — only  a  great  multitude  of  angels,  whom  I 
thought  of  incomparably  greater  beauty  than  those  I  have  seen 
in  Heaven.  I  wondered  if  they  were  seraphim  or  cherubim,  for 
they  were  very  different  in  their  glory  and  they  seemed  to  be  all 
on  fire.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between  angels,  as  I 
have  said,  and  the  glory  which  I  felt  within  me  at  that  time 
cannot  be  expressed  in  writing,  or  even  in  speech,  nor  can  it  be 
imagined  by  anyone  who  has  not  experienced  it.  I  felt  that  all  the 
things  that  can  be  desired  were  there  at  one  and  the  same  time, 
yet  I  saw  nothing.  They  told  me — I  do  not  know  who — that  all  I 
could  do  was  to  understand  that  I  was  incapable  of  understanding 
anything,  and  to  consider  everything  else  as  nothing  at  all  by 
comparison  with  that.  Afterwards  my  soul  was  dismayed  to  find 
that  there  was  any  created  thing  in  which  it  could  rest,  still  more 
that  I  could  come  to  have  affection  for  any,  for  everything  else 
seemed  to  me  a  mere  ant-hill 

I  assisted  at  Mass  and  communicated.  I  do  not  know  how 
I  did  so.  I  thought  I  had  been  there  only  a  very  short  time  and 
I  was  astounded  when  the  clock  struck  and  I  found  that  I  had 
been  in  that  state  of  rapture  and  bliss  for  two  hours.  Afterwards 
I  was  amazed  at  having  experienced  this  fire,  which  seems  to 
proceed  from  on  high,  and  from  the  true  love  of  God,  for,  however 
much  I  desire  and  strive  and  am  consumed  with  the  effort  to 

1  Apocalypse  iv,  6-8. 


XXXIX]  LIFE  289 

attain  it  it  is  only  when  His  Majesty  so  pleases,  as  I  have  said  on 
other  occasions,  that  I  am  able  to  obtain  so  much  as  a  single 
spark.  It  seems  to  consume  the  old  man,  with  his  faults,  his  luke- 
warmness  and  his  misery;  it  is  like  the  phoenix,  from  the  ashes 
of  which,  after  it  has  been  burned  (or  so  I  have  read),  comes 
forth  another.  Even  so  is  the  soul  transformed  into  another, 
with  its  fresh  desires  and  its  great  fortitude.  It  seems  not  to  be 
the  same  as  before,  but  begins  to  walk  in  the  way  of  the  Lord 
with  a  new  purity.  When  I  besought  His  Majesty  that  this  might 
be  so  with  me  and  that  I  might  begin  to  serve  Him  anew,  He  said 
to  me:  "The  comparison  thou  hast  made  is  a  good  one:  see  thou 
forget  it  not,  that  thou  mayest  ever  strive  to  amend/' 

Once  when  I  was  struggling  with  this  same  doubt  that  I  des- 
cribed just  now,  as  to  whether  these  visions  were  of  God  or  no, 
the  Lord  appeared  to  me  and  exclaimed  sternly:  "Oh,  children 
of  men,  how  long  will  ye  be  hard  of  heart?"  I  was  to  examine 
myself  thoroughly,  He  added,  on  one  matter:  Had  I  made  a  full 
surrender  of  myself  to  Him  or  no?  If  I  had,  and  was  wholly  His, 
I  must  have  confidence  that  He  would  not  allow  me  to  be  lost. 
I  felt  greatly  troubled  at  that  exclamation  of  His.  So,  very 
tenderly  and  consolingly,  He  told  me  again  not  to  be  troubled, 
for  He  knew  well  that  I  would  not  knowingly  fail  to  devote  my- 
self wholly  to  His  service;  and  He  promised  that  all  I  desired 
should  be  performed.  And  in  fact  what  I  was  then  beseeching 
of  Him  was  granted  me.  He  bade  me,  too,  consider  the  love  for 
Him  which  was  increasing  daily  within  me,  and  I  should  then  see 
that  this  experience  of  mine  was  not  of  the  devil.  He  told  me  not 
to  suppose  that  God  could  allow  the  devil  to  have  so  much  to  do 
with  His  servants'  souls  as  to  be  able  to  give  them  the  clearness 
of  mind  and  the  quiet  that  I  was  experiencing.  He  gave  me  to 
understand  that,  when  so  many  persons,  and  such  persons,  had 
told  me  that  the  visions  came  from  God,  I  should  be  doing  wrong 
not  to  believe  them. 

Once,  when  I  was  reciting  the  psalm  Quicunque  uult,  I  was 
shown  so  clearly  how  it  was  possible  for  there  to  be  one  God 
alone  and  Three  Persons  that  it  caused  me  both  amazement  and 
much  comfort.  It  was  of  the  greatest  help  to  me  in  teaching  me 
to  know  more  of  the  greatness  of  God  and  of  His  marvels,  and 
when  I  think  of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity,  or  hear  It  spoken  of5 
I  seem  to  understand  how  there  can  be  such  a  mystery  and  it  is  a 
great  joy  to  me. 

Once,  on  the  Feast  of  the  Assumption  of  Our  Lady,  Queen  of 
the  Angels,  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  grant  me  the  following 
favour:  in  a  rapture  there  was  pictured  to  me  her  ascent  into 
Heaven  and  the  joy  and  solemnity  with  which  she  was  received 


2go  LIFE  [CHAP. 

and  the  place  where  she  now  is.  To  explain  how  this  happened 
would  be  impossible  for  me.  Exceeding  great  was  the  glory  which 
Billed  my  spirit  when  it  saw  such  glory.  The  fruits  of  the  vision 
were  wonderful  and  I  was  left  with  a  great  desire  to  serve  Our 
Lady,  because  of  her  surpassing  merits. 

I  was  once  in  a  college  of  the  Company  of  Jesus1  when  the 
brethren  of  that  house  were  communicating,  and  I  saw  a  very 
rich  canopy  above  their  heads:  this  I  saw  twice.  When  other 
people  were  communicating  I  did  not  see  it. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Continues  the  same  subject  and  tells  of  the  great  favours  which  the  Lord  has 
granted  her.  From  some  of  these  may  be  obtained  most  excellent 
teaching  and,  next  to  obedience,  her  principal  motive  in  writing  has 
been,  as  she  has  said,  to  convey  this  instruction  and  to  describe  such 
favours  as  are  for  the  profit  of  souls.  With  this  chapter  the  narrative 
of  her  life  which  she  has  wntten  comes  to  an  end.  May  it  be  to  the 
glory  of  the  Lord.  Amen. 

Once,  when  I  was  in  prayer,  1  felt  within  myself  such  great  joy 
that,  being  unworthy  of  such  a  blessing,  I  began  to  think  how 
much  more  I  deserved  to  be  in  the  place  which  I  had  seen  pre- 
pared for  me  in  hell;  for,  as  I  have  said,  I  never  forget  the  vision 
which  I  once  had  of  myself  there.  As  I  meditated  in  this  way, 
my  soul  began  to  be  more  vehemently  enkindled  and  there  came 
to  me  a  spiritual  transport  of  a  kind  which  I  cannot  describe.  My 
spirit  seemed  to  be  plunged  into  that  Majesty  of  which  I  have 
been  conscious  on  other  occasions,  and  to  be  filled  with  It.  In 
this  Majesty  I  was  given  to  understand  a  truth  which  is  the 
fulfilment  of  all  truths,  yet  I  cannot  tell  how,  for  I  saw  nothing. 
Someone  said  to  me — I  could  not  see  who,  but  I  was  quite  clear 
that  it  was  the  Truth  Itself:  "This  that  I  am  doing  for  thee  is  no 
small  thing,  but  one  of  the  things  for  which  thou  art  greatly 
indebted  to  Me;  for  all  the  harm  which  comes  to  the  world  is  due 
to  a  failure  to  know  the  truths  of  Scripture  in  the  clarity  of  their 
truth,  of  which  not  a  tittle  shall  fail."2  I  thought  that  I  had 
always  believed  this  and  that  all  the  faithful  believed  it.  Then 
He  said  to  me:  "Ah,  daughter,  how  few  are  they  who  love  Me 
in  truth!  If  people  loved  Me,  I  should  not  hide  my  secrets  from 
them.  Knowest  thou  what  it  is  to  love  Me  in  truth?  It  is  to  realize 
that  everything  which  is  not  pleasing  to  Me  is  a  lie.  Thou  dost 
1  The  College  of  St.  Giles,  Avila.  *  Gf  St.  Matthew  v,  18. 


XL]  LIFE  291 

not  yet  realize  this,  but  thou  shalt  come  to  see  it  clearly  in  the 
profit  it  will  bring  to  thy  soul/5 

And,  praised  be  the  Lord,  I  have  indeed  come  to  see  it:  since 
that  time  I  have  looked  upon  all  that  I  do  not  see  being  directed 
to  the  service  of  God  as  vanity  and  lies.  I  could  not  explain  how 
it  is  that  I  realize  this  or  say  how  much  I  pity  those  whom  I  see 
living  in  darkness  with  respect  to  this  truth.  From  this,  too,  I 
have  derived  other  advantages  which  I  shall  here  describe  and 
many  others  which  I  cannot.  On  the  occasion  referred  to,  the 
Lord  said  one  special  thing  which  has  been  of  the  greatest  help  to 
me.  I  do  not  know  how  this  happened,  for  I  saw  nothing,  but, 
in  a  way  which  I  cannot  explain,  I  acquired  an  extreme  fortitude 
so  that  I  became  most  firmly  resolved  to  carry  out  with  all  my 
might  the  very  smallest  thing  contained  in  the  Divine  Scripture. 
I  believe  that  there  is  no  obstacle  that  could  present  itself  to  me 
which  I  could  not  overcome. 

From  this  Divine  Truth,1  which  was  presented  to  me  without 
my  knowing  what  it  was  or  how  it  came,  there  remained  imprinted 
upon  me  one  truth  in  particular.  It  gives  me  a  fresh  reverence  for 
God,  by  granting  me  a  knowledge  of  His  majesty  and  power  in  a 
•way  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe;  but  I  can  at  least  under- 
stand that  it  is  a  great  thing.  It  gave  me  a  very  great  desire  to 
speak  only  of  things  which  are  very  true  and  which  go  far  beyond 
any  that  are  treated  of  in  the  world,  and  thus  living  in  the  world 
began  to  cause  me  deep  distress.2  It  left  me  filled  with  a  great 
tenderness,  consoled  and  humbled.  I  thought,  without  under- 
standing how,  that  the  Lord  had  now  given  me  a  great  deal; 
I  had  not  the  least  misgiving  lest  it  should  be  an  illusion.  I  saw 
nothing,  but  I  understood  what  a  great  blessing  it  is  to  set  no  store 
by  anything  that  will  not  bring  us  nearer  to  God.  Thus  I  under- 
stood what  it  is  for  a  soul  to  be  walking  in  truth  in  the  presence 
of  Truth  Itself.  And  what  I  understood  comes  to  this :  the  Lord 
showed  me  that  He  is  Truth  Itself, 

All  that  I  have  been  saying  I  learned,  sometimes  by  means  of 
locutions,  and  sometimes  without  their  instrumentality — and  yet 
I  grasped  these  latter  things  more  clearly  than  others  which,  were 
told  me  in  words.  About  this  Truth  I  learned  the  profoundest 
truths  and  more  of  them  than  if  I  had  been  taught  them  by  many 
learned  men.  I  do  not  think  learned  men  could  ever  have  im- 
pressed upon  me  so  strongly  or  have  shown  me  so  clearly  the  vanity 
of  this  world.  This  truth  which  I  am  referring  to  and  which  was 

1  [In  this  and  the  next  paragraph  I  follow  P.  Silvcrio  in  the  use  of  capitals  or  lower- 
case letters  for  foe  word  "truth".] 

2  [The  numerous  repetitions  in  this  and  the  preceding  sentences  will  be  noted. 
Of.  Translator's  Preface,  p.  xx,  above] 


292  LIFE  [CHAP. 

taught  me  is  truth  in  itself,  and  is  without  beginning  or  end,  and 
upon  this  truth  all  other  truths  depend,  just  as  all  other  loves 
depend  upon  this  love  and  all  other  greatnesses  upon  this  great- 
ness. This  is  an  obscure  way  of  putting  the  clear  truth  which  the 
Lord  was  pleased  should  be  revealed  to  me.  And  what  the  might 
of  this  Majesty  must  be  when  in  so  short  a  time  it  brings  the  soul 
such  great  gain  and  leaves  such  things  as  this  imprinted  upon  it ! 
Oh,  my  Majesty  and  Greatness!  What  art  Thou  doing,  my 
Lord  Almighty?  Consider  to  whom  Thou  art  granting  such 
sovereign  mercies.  Dost  Thou  not  remember  that  this  soul  has 
been  an  abyss  of  lies  and  an  ocean  of  vanities  and  all  through  my 
own  fault?  Thou  hadst  given  me  a  nature  which  abhorred  lying, 
yet  in  many  things  I  allowed  myself  to  deal  in  lies.  How,  my  God, 
can  it  be  thought  fitting  or  tolerable  for  such  great  favours  to  be 
granted  to  one  who  has  deserved  so  ill  of  Thee? 

On  one  occasion,  when  I  was  reciting  the  Hours  with  the 
community,  my  soul  suddenly  became  recollected  and  seemed  to 
me  to  become  bright  all  over  like  a  mirror:  no  part  of  it — back, 
sides,  top  or  bottom — but  was  completely  bright,  and  in  the  centre 
of  it  was  a  picture  of  Christ  Our  Lord  as  I  generally  see  Him. 
I  seemed  to  see  Him  in  every  part  of  my  soul  as  clearly  as  in  a 
mirror,  and  this  mirror — I  cannot  explain  how — was  wholly 
sculptured  in  the  same  Lord  by  a  most  loving  communication 
which  I  shall  never  be  able  to  describe.  This,  I  know,  was  a  vision 
which,  whenever  I  recall  it,  and  especially  after  Communion, 
is  always  of  great  profit  to  me.  It  was  explained  to  me  that,  when 
a  soul  is  in  mortal  sin,  this  mirror  is  covered  with  a  thick  mist 
and  remains  darkened  so  that  the  Lord  cannot  be  pictured  or  seen 
in  it,  though  He  is  always  present  with  us  and  gives  us  our  being; 
with  heretics  it  is  as  if  the  mirror  were  broken,  which  is  much 
worse  than  being  dimmed.  Seeing  this  is  very  different  from 
describing  it,  for  it  cannot  be  properly  explained.  But  it  has 
helped  me  a  great  deal  and  has  also  caused  me  deep  regrets  at  the 
many  occasions  when,  through  my  faults,  my  soul  has  become 
darkened  and  so  I  have  been  unable  to  see  the  Lord. 

This  vision  seems  to  me  a  very  beneficial  one  for  recollected 
persons,  for  it  teaches  them  to  think  of  the  Lord  as  being  in  the 
very  innermost  part  of  their  soul.  This  is  a  meditation  which 
has  a  lasting  effect,  and,  as  I  have  said  on  other  occasions,  is 
much  more  fruitful  than  thinking  of  Him  as  outside  us,  as  certain 
books  do  which  treat  of  prayer,  telling  us  where  we  are  to  seek  God. 
This  is  particularly  well  put  by  the  glorious  Saint  Augustine, 
who  says  that  neither  in  market-places1  nor  in  pleasures  nor 
wheresoever  else  he  sought  Him  did  he  find  Him  as  he  did  within 

^Sp.,  plazas^  squares,  public  places:  Lc.,  in  intercourse  with  men.] 


XL]  LIFE  293 

himself.1  It  is  quite  clear  that  this  is  the  best  way:  we  need  not 
go  to  Heaven,  nor  any  farther  than  to  our  own  selves,  for  to  do 
that  is  to  trouble  the  spirit  and  distract  the  soul,  without  producing 
any  great  fruit. 

There  is  one  thing  which  happens  in  a  deep  rapture  and  of 
which  I  want  to  give  warning  here:  when  the  period  has  passed 
during  which  the  soul  is  in  union  and  its  faculties  are  wholly 
absorbed — and  this  period,  as  I  have  said,  is  short — the  soul  will 
still  be  recollected,  and  be  unable,  even  in  outward  things,  to  return 
to  itself;  two  of  the  faculties — memory  and  understanding — will  be 
quite  bewildered,  and  almost  in  a  state  of  frenzy.  This,  as  I  say, 
sometimes  happens,  especially  at  the  beginning.  It  may,  I  imagine, 
be  a  result  of  the  inability  of  our  natural  weakness  to  endure  such 
spiritual  vehemence,  and  of  the  weakening  of  the  imagination. 
I  know  this  happens  to  some  people,  I  should  think  it  a  good 
idea  for  them  to  force  themselves  to  give  up  prayer  and  to  take 
it  up  again  later,  at  some  time  when  they  have  leisure,  for  if  they  try 
to  pray  while  in  that  state  they  may  come  to  great  harm.  And  I 
have  experience  of  this  and  of  the  wisdom  of  considering  what 
our  health  can  bear. 

In  all  this  we  need  experience  and  a  director;  for,  when  the  soul 
has  reached  this  stage,  many  things  will  occur  which  it  will  need 
to  discuss  with  someone.  Yet,  if  it  seeks  such  a  person  unsuccessfully, 
the  Lord  will  not  fail  it,  for,  even  though  I  am  what  I  am,  He 
has  not  failed  me.  I  believe  there  are  few  who  have  acquired 
experience  of  all  these  things,  and  without  experience  it  is  useless 
to  attempt  to  bring  a  soul  relief — one  will  bring  it  only  disquiet 
and  distress.  This  the  Lord  will  also  take  into  account,  for  which 
reason  it  is  better,  as  I  have  said  on  other  occasions,  to  discuss 
the  matter  with  one's  confessor.  All  that  I  am  saying  now  I  have 
said  already,  but  I  do  not  remember  it  very  well,  and  I  am  sure 
the  relations  of  penitent  and  confessor,  and  the  type  of  confessor 
to  be  chosen,  are  very  important  matters,  especially  to  women. 
The  Lord  gives  these  favours  far  more  to  women  than  to  men: 
I  have  heard  the  saintly  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara  say  that,  and  I 
have  also  observed  it  myself.  He  would  say  that  women  made, 
much  more  progress  on  this  road  than  men,  and  gave  excellent 
reasons  for  this,  which  there  is  no  point  in  my  repeating  here,  all 
in  favour  of  women. 

Once,  when  I  was  in  prayer,  I  saw,  for  a  very  brief  time  and 
without  any  distinctness  of  form,  but  with  perfect  clarity,  how  all 
things  are  seen  in  God  and  how  within  Himself  He  contains  them 

1  The  quotation  is  taken  from  Chap.  XXXI  of  the  apocryphal  Soliloquies,  often 
published  in  Latin  under  the  name  of  St.  Augustine,  and,  in  Spanish,  at  Valladolid, 
in  1515. 


294  LIFE  [CHAP. 

all.  Describe  this  I  cannot,  but  the  vision  remained  firmly  im- 
printed upon  my  soul  and  is  one  of  those  great  favours  which  the 
Lord  has  granted  me  and  which,  when  I  remember  the  sins  I  have 
committed,,  cause  me  the  greatest  confusion  and  shame.  I  believe, 
if  it  had  been  the  Lord's  will  for  me  to  have  seen  this  vision  earlier, 
and  if  it  had  been  seen  by  those  who  offend  Him,  they  would  have 
neither  the  heart  nor  the  presumption  to  do  so.  I  cannot  say  with 
certainty  that  I  saw  nothing,  for,  as  I  am  able  to  make  this  com- 
parison, something  must  have  been  visible  to  me;  but  the  vision 
comes  in  so  subtle  and  delicate  a  way  that  the  understanding 
cannot  grasp  it.  Or  it  may  be  that  I  cannot  understand  these 
visions,  which  do  not  seem  to  be  imaginary,  though  there  must  be 
an  imaginary  element  in  some  of  them;  but,  as  they  take  place 
during  raptures,  the  faculties  are  unable,  after  the  rapture  is 
over,  to  form  the  picture  which  the  Lord  has  revealed  to  them 
and  in  which  it  is  His  will  that  they  should  rejoice. 

Let  us  say  that  the  Godhead  is  like  a  very  clear  diamond,  much 
larger  than  the  whole  world,  or  a  mirror,  like  that  which  sym- 
bolized the  soul  in  my  account  of  an  earlier  vision,  except  that  it  is 
of  a  far  sublimer  kind,  to  which  I  cannot  do  justice.  Let  us  suppose, 
furthermore,  that  all  we  do  is  seen  in  this  diamond,  which  is 
of  such  a  kind  that  it  contains  everything  within  itself,  because 
there  is  nothing  capable  of  falling  outside  such  greatness.  It  was 
a  terrifying  experience  for  me,  in  so  short  a  space  of  time,  to  see  so 
many  things  at  once  in  the  clear  depths  of  that  diamond,  and 
whenever  I  think  of  it,  it  is  a  most  piteous  reflection,  that  so  many 
foul  things,  like  my  sins,  should  have  been  pictured  in  that  clearness 
and  purity.  So,  whenever  I  remember  this,  I  do  not  know  how  to 
bear  it  and  at  that  time  I  felt  so  ashamed  that  I  did  not  seem  to 
know  where  to  hide  myself.  Oh,  that  someone  could  reveal  this 
to  those  who  commit  the  most  foul  and  dishonourable  sins  and 
could  make  them  realize  that  their  sins  are  not  hidden;  that, 
committed  as  they  are  in  His  Majesty's  own  presence,  God  justly 
grieves  for  them;  and  that  we  are  behaving  in  His  sight  with  the 
greatest  irreverence!  I  saw  how  truly  one  single  rtiortal  sin  merits 
hell;  it  is  impossible  to  understand  how  grave  an  offence  it  is  to 
commit  such  a  sin  in  the  sight  of  such  great  Majesty  and  how 
alienated  such  things  are  from  His  nature.  And  thus  His  mercy 
becomes  ever  the  more  clearly  seen,  for,  though  He  knows  that  we 
are  doing  all  this,  He  none  the  less  bears  with  us. 

This  has  also  made  me  wonder,  if  one  such  experience  as  this 
leaves  the  soul  so  terrified,  what  the  Judgment  pay  will  be  like, 
when  His  Majesty  will  reveal  Himself  to  us  clearly  and  we  shall 
see  the  offences  we  have  committed.  Oh,  God  help  me,  how 
blind  I  have  been!  I  have  often  been  amazed  at  what  I  have 


XL]  LIFE  295 

written,  but  Your  Reverence  must  not  be  amazed  except  at  my 
being  still  alive  when  I  see  these  things  and  consider  what  I  am. 
May  He  Who  has  borne  with  me  for  so  long  be  blessed  for  ever. 

Once  when  I  was  in  prayer,  and  deep  in  recollection,  sweetness 
and  quiet,  I  thought  I  was  surrounded  by  angels  and  very  near 
to  God.  I  began  to  entreat  His  Majesty  for  the  Church.  I  was 
shown  what  a  great  benefit  would  be  conferred  upon  it  in  the  latter 
days  by  one  of  the  Orders  and  by  the  fortitude  with  which  its 
members  would  uphold  the  Faith. x 

Once  when  I  was  praying  before  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament 
there  appeared  to  me  a  holy  man  whose  Order  had  been  to  some 
extent  in  a  state  of  decline.  In  his  hands  he  was  holding  a  large 
book;  he  opened  this  and  told  me  to  read  a  few  words  which 
were  in  large  and  very  legible  print.  "In  the  times  to  come," 
they  said,  "this  Order  will  flourish;  it  will  have  many  martyrs."2 

On  another  occasion  when  I  was  at  Matins  in  choir,  I  saw  in 
front  of  me  the  figures  of  six  or  seven  members  of  this  same  Order, 
with  swords  in  their  hands.  I  take  this  to  mean  that  they  are  to 
defend  the  Faith.  For  at  another  time,  when  I  was  in  prayer,  my 
spirit  was  carried  away  and  I  thought  I  was  in  a  great  field  where 
many  people  were  fighting  and  the  members  of  this  Order  were 
doing  battle  with  great  fervour.  They  had  lovely  faces,  quite 
lit  up  with  zeal;  many  were  vanquished  and  laid  low  by  them; 
others  were  killed.  This,  I  thought,  was  a  battle  against  the 
heretics. 

I  have  seen  this  glorious  Saint  several  times  and  he  has  told 
me  various  things  and  thanked  me  for  praying  for  his  Order  and 
promised  to  commend  me  to  the  Lord.  I  do  not  name  these 
Orders.  If  the  Lord  wishes  it  to  be  known  which  they  are,  He 
will  make  it  clear,  and  in  that  case  the  rest  will  not  be  offended. 
Each  Order,  and  every  individual  member  of  an  Order,  should 
strive  that  the  Lord  may  use  it  and  him  to  bless  it  so  that  it  may 
serve  Him  in  the  Church's  present  great  necessity.  Blessed  are 
the  lives  which  are  spent  in,  doing  this. 

I  was  once  asked  by  someone  to  beg  God  to  tell  him  if  he  would 
be  serving  Him  by  accepting  9,  bishopric,3  And  after  Com-> 

1  Ribera  (Bk.  IV,  Chap.  V)  thinks  that  the  Society  of  Jesus  is  meant,  but  Qracian, 
in  his  notes,  has  "  the  Order  of  St.  Dominic". 

2  This,  too,  according  to  Gracian's  annotation,  refers  to  the  Order  of  St.  Dominic. 
Ribera  agrees  here.   Yepes  (Bk.  JJI,  Chap.  XVII)  says:  "For  certain  honourable 
motives  the  holy  Mother  refrained  from  naming  this  Order;  but  I  know  that  she  is 
speaking  of  the  new  Reform  which  she  founded."   A  number  of  Carmelite  writers 
take  this  view,  but  P.  Silverio  inclines  to  agree  with  Graciin  and  Ribera.  [So  do  I: 
the  language  of  the  following  paragraphs  suggests  the  Qrder  of  Preachers— certainly 
not  tie  Djscaked  Carmelites  ] 

3  This,  says  Graaan,  was  the  Inquisitor  Soto,  who  later  became  Bishop  of  Sala- 
manca. 


296  LIFE  [CHAP. 

munion  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "When  he  has  quite  clearly  and 
truly  realized  that  true  dominion  consists  in  possessing  nothing, 
then  he  may  take  it."  By  this  He  meant  that  anyone  who  is  to 
hold  a  position  of  authority  should  be  very  far  from  desiring  or 
wishing  for  one,  or  at  least  from  trying  to  obtain  one. 

These  and  many  other  favours  the  Lord  has  granted  this  sinner 
and  still  grants  her  continually.  But  there  is  no  need,  I  think,  for 
me  to  describe  any  more  of  them,  for  from  what  I  have  said  can 
be  gathered  what  progress  my  soul  is  making  and  how  much 
spirituality  the  Lord  has  given  me.  Blessed  be  He  for  ever,  Who 
has  had  so  much  care  for  me ! 

Once  He  told  me,  by  way  of  consolation,  not  to  worry — and 
He  said  this  very  lovingly — for  in  this  life  we  could  not  always  be 
in  the  same  condition.  Sometimes  I  should  be  fervent  and  at 
other  times  not;  sometimes  I  should  be  restless  and  at  other 
times,  in  spite  of  temptations,  I  should  be  tranquil.  But  I  was 
to  hope  in  Him  and  not  to  be  afraid. 

One  day  I  was  wondering  if  I  was  too  much  attached  to  the 
world  because  I  was  happy  when  I  was  with  the  people  to  whom 
I  speak  about  my  soul  and  had  an  affection  for  them,  and  because, 
when  I  see  that  anyone  is  a  great  servant  of  God,  I  always  find 
comfort  in  his  company.  And  the  Lord  told  me  that  if  a  sick  man 
had  been  at  death's  door,  and  attributed  his  recovery  to  a  phy- 
sician, it  would  be  no  virtue  in  him  to  fail  to  thank  him  and  not 
to  love  him.  What  would  have  become  of  me,  He  continued,  but 
for  these  people?  The  conversation  of  good  people  never  did 
any  harm,  and  provided  my  conversation  was  always  carefully 
considered  and  virtuous  I  should  not  cease  mixing  with  them, 
and  I  should  find  that  they  would  do  me  good  rather  than  harm. 
This  comforted  me  a  great  deal,  for  I  used  sometimes  to  think 
myself  over-attached  to  them  and  would  want  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with  them  at  all.  The  Lord  would  always  give  me  counsel 
about  everything,  even  to  the  point  of  telling  me  how  I  must 
deal  with  people  who  were  weak  and  with  certain  others.  He  never 
fails  to  look  after  me;  sometimes  I  am  distressed  when  I  see  of 
how  little  use  I  am  in  His  service  and  how  I  am  obliged  to  spend 
so  much  more  time  than  I  should  like  in  a  body  as  weak  and 
miserable  as  mine  is. 

Once,  when  the  time  came  for  me  to  go  to  bed,  I  was  in  prayer, 
and  I  was  suffering  very  great  pain  and  beginning  to  experience 
my  usual  sickness.  Seeing  how  tied  I  was  to  my  body,  yet  how, 
on  the  other  hand,  my  spirit  craved  time  for  itself,  I  became  so 
depressed  that  I  started  to  shed  floods  of  tears  and  to  be  in  great 
distress.  This  happened  not  only  once  but,  as  I  say,  often:  it 
seemed  to  make  me  exasoerated  with  mv<;plf 


XL]  LIFE  297 

that  happens  I  regard  myself  with  abhorrence.  But  as  a  general 
rule  I  do  not  think  I  regard  myself  so,  nor  do  I  fail  to  do  anything 
I  see  to  be  necessary  for  me.  Please  God  I  do  not  often  do  more 
than  is  essential,  though  sometimes  I  am  bound  to.  On  this 
occasion,  as  I  say,  when  I  was  so  distressed,  the  Lord  appeared 
to  me  and  comforted  me  a  great  deal  and  said  I  was  to  do  these 
things  for  love  of  Him  and  to  put  up  with  everything,  for  my  life 
was  necessary  now.  I  think  I  have  never  found  myself  distressed 
since  I  resolved  to  serve  this  Lord  and  Comforter  of  mine  with  all 
my  might;  for,  though  He  would  let  me  suffer  a  little,  He  would 
comfort  me  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  nothing  to  me  to  desire  trials. 
So  there  seems  to  me  now  to  be  no  other  reason  for  living  than 
this,  and  it  is  for  this  that  I  pray  to  God  most  earnestly.  I  some- 
times say  to  Him  with  my  whole  will :  "To  die,  Lord,  or  to  suffer ! 
I  ask  nothing  else  of  Thee  for  myself  but  this."  It  comforts  me 
to  hear  a  clock  strike,  for  when  I  find  that  another  hour  of  life 
has  passed  away,  I  seem  to  be  getting  a  little  nearer  to  the  vision 
of  God. 

At  other  times  I  am  in  a  state  in  which  I  do  not  feel  I  am 
alive  and  yet  I  do  not  seem  to  want  to  die1:  as  I  have  said  is 
frequently  the  case,  I  experience  a  kind  of  lukewarmness  and 
everything  is  dark  as  a  result  of  the  great  trials  I  am  suffering. 
When  the  Lord  was  pleased  that  these  favours  which  His 
Majesty  is  granting  me  should  become  publicly  known  (which 
He  told  me  some  years  ago  would  happen),  I  was  greatly 
troubled,  and,  as  Your  Reverence  knows,  it  has  caused  me  no 
little  suffering  down  to  this  very  day,  for  everyone  interprets 
them  as  he  likes.  It  has  been  a  comfort  to  me  that  they  have 
become  known  through  no  fault  of  mine,  for  I  have  been  very 
careful,  and  at  great  pains,  never  to  talk  about  them  except  to 
my  confessors  and  to  people  to  whom  I  have  known  that  my 
confessors  have  spoken  about  them:  this  I  have  done,  not  from 
humility,  but  because  it  has  distressed  me  to  speak  of  them  even 
to  my  confessors.  Now,  however,  though,  out  of  a  zeal  for 
righteousness,  people  may  t  speak  very  ill  of  me,  and  others  are 
afraid  to  have  anything  to  do  with  me  or  to  hear  my  confessions, 
while  still  others  say  all  kinds  of  things  to  my  face,  I  care  about  it — 
glory  be  to  God! — very  little;  for  I  believe  the  Lord  has  chosen 
this  means  of  helping  many  souls,  and  I  know  quite  well  how 
much  the  Lord  Himself  would  suffer  for  the  sake  of  just  one  soul: 
I  often  call  that  to  mind.  I  dp  not  know  if  it  is  for  that  reason 
that  His  Majesty  has  put  me  in  this  little  corner2,  where  I  live 

1  [Or  "in  which  I  am  not  sorry  I  am  alive,  nor  do  I  seem  to  want  to  die.**  But  the 
context,  I  think,  favours  the  rendering  given  in  the  text.] 
a  St.  Joseph's,  Avila. 


298  LIFE  [CHAP. 

in  such  strict  enclosure,  and  where  I  am  so  much  like  a  dead 
thing  that  I  once  thought  nobody  would  ever  remember  me  again. 
But  this  has  not  been  so  to  the  extent  that  I  should  like,  as  there 
are  certain  people  to  whom  I  am  obliged  to  speak.  Still,  I  am 
not  in  a  place  where  I  can  be  seen,  so  the  Lord  seems  to  have 
been  pleased  at  last  to  bring  me  to  a  haven,  which  I  hope  in  His 
Majesty  will  be  a  safe  one. 

As  I  am  now  out  of  the  world,  and  my  companions  are  few  and 
saintly,  I  look  down  upon  the  world  as  from  above  and  care 
very  little  what  people  say  or  what  is  known  about  me.  I  care 
more  about  the  smallest  degree  of  progress  achieved  by  one^single 
soul  than  for  all  the  things  that  people  may  say  about  me; 
for,  since  I  have  been  here,  it  has  been  the  Lord's  will  that  this 
should  become  the  aim  of  all  my  desires.  He  has  given  me  a  life 
which  is  a  kind  of  sleep :  when  I  see  things,  I  nearly  always  seem 
to  be  dreaming  them.  In  myself  I  find  no  great  propensity  either 
to  joy  or  to  sorrow.  If  anything  produces  either  of  these  conditions 
in  me,  it  passes  so  quickly  that  I  marvel,  and  the  feeling  it  leaves 
is  like  the -feeling  left  by  a  dream.  And  it  is  really  true  that,  if 
later  I  should  want  to  be  glad  about  that  occasion  of  joy  or  to 
feel  sad  about  that  cause  for  sorrow,  I  am  no  more  capable  of 
doing  so  than  is  a  sensible  person  of  either  grieving  or  glorying  over 
anything  he  may  have  dreamed.  My  soul  has  been  awakened 
by  the  Lord  from  a  condition  in  which  I  used  to  feel  as  I  did 
because  I  was  neither  mortified  nor  dead  to  the  things  of  the 
world;  and  His  Majesty  will  not  let  me  become  blind  again. 

It  is  thus,  dear  Sir  and  Father1,  that  I  live  now.  Your  Reverence 
must  beseech  God  either  to  take  me  to  be  with  Him  or  to  give 
me  the  means  of  serving  Him.  May  it  please  His  Majesty  that 
what  is  written  here  may  be  of  some  profit  to  Your  Reverence, 
for  the  little  opportunity  I  have  of  writing  has  made  it  a  laborious 
task  for  me.  But  the  task  will  be  a  happy  one  if  I  have  managed 
to  say  anything  for  which  one  single  act  of  praise  will  be  made 
to  the  Lord.  This  alone  would  make  me  feel  rewarded,  even  were 
Your  Reverence  then  to  burn  what  I  have  written  immediately. 

I  should  prefer  it  not  to  be  burned,  however,  before  it  has  been 
seen  by  the  three  persons,  known  to  Your  Reverence,  who  are  or 
have  been  my  confessors;2  for,  if  it  is  bad,  it  would  be  well  that 
they  should  lose  the  good  opinion  they  have  of  me,  and,  if  it  is 
good,  they  are  virtuous  and  learned  men  and  I  know  they  will 
recognize  whence  it  comes  and  praise  Him  Who  said  it  through 
me.  May  His  Majesty  ever  keep  Your  Reverence  in  His  hand 

*  P.  Garcia  de  Toledo.  [On  the  form  "Sir",  see  p.  139,  n.  i,  above.] 

*  Two  of  these  would  be  PP.  Bdnez  and  Garcia  de  Toledo.  The  identity  of  the  third 
cannot  be  given  for  certain. 


XL]  LIFE  299 

and  make  you  so  great  a  saint  that  your  spirituality  and  light 
may  enlighten  this  miserable  creature,  so  lacking  in  humility  and 
so  presumptuous  as  to  have  dared  to  resolve  to  write  upon  subjects 
so  sublime.  May  it  please  the  Lord  that  I  may  not  have  erred 
in  this,  for  my  intention  and  desire  have  been  to  be  accurate 
and  obedient  and  I  have  hoped  that  through  me  some  praise 
might  be  given  to  the  Lord,  a  thing  for  which  I  have  prayed 
for  many  years.  And  as  no  works  which  I  have  performed 
can  accomplish  this,  I  have  ventured  to  put  together  this  story 
of  my  unruly  life,  though  I  have  wasted  no  more  time  or  trouble 
on  it  than  has  been  necessary  for  the  writing  of  it,  but  have  merely 
set  down  what  has  happened  to  me  with  all  the  simplicity  and 
truth  at  my  command. 

May  it  please  the  Lord,  since  He  is  powerful  and  can  do  what 
He  will,  that  I  may  succeed  in  doing  His  will  in  all  things,  and 
may  He  not  allow  this  soul  to  be  lost  which  so  often,  by  so  many 
methods  and  devices,  His  Majesty  has  rescued  from  hell  and 
drawn  to  Himself.  Amen. 

LETTER  WRITTEN  BY  THE  SAINT  TO  FATHER  GARCIA.  DE  TOLEDO 
WHEN  SENDING  HIM  HER  "LlFE"1 

I.  H.  S. 

May  the  Holy  Spirit  be  ever  with  Your  Reverence.  Amen. 
It  would  not  be  a  bad  idea  if  I  were  to  exaggerate  the  importance 
of  this  task  of  mine  to  Your  Reverence  so  as  to  impose  upon 
you  the  obligation  to  commend  me  earnestly  to  Our  Lord,  as 
well  I  might  after  what  I  have  suffered  through  finding  that  I 
have  written  about  so  gnany  of  n\y  miserable  deeds  and  have 
thus  called  attention  to  them;  though  I  can  truly  say  I  have  felt 
more  keenly  having  to  write  of  the  favours  which  the  L6rd  has 
bestowed  upon  me  than  of  the  offences  which  I  have  committed 
against  His  Majesty.  I  have  done  what  Your  Reverence  com- 
manded me,  and  written  at  length,  on  the  condition  that  Your 
Reverence  will  do"  as  you  promised  me  and  tear  up  anything  that 
seems  to  you  wrong.  I  had  not  finished  reading  through  what  I 
had  written  when  Your  Reverence  sent  for  it.  Some  things  in 
it  may  be  badly  explained  and  others  set  down  twice,  for  I  have 
had  so  little  time  that  I  have  been  unable  to  re-read  all  that  I 
have  written.  I  beseech  Your  Reverence  to  amend  it,, and,  if  it  is 
to  be  sent  to  Father-Master  Avila,  to  have  it  copied,  for  otherwise 
someone  might  recognize  the  handwriting. 

1  This  letter  is  found  in  the  autograph,  at  the  end  of  the  last  chapter.  It  was  prob-- 
ably  written  to  P.  Garcia  de  Toledo.   [But  see  p.  5,  above.  The  heading  is  not, 
of  course,  in  the  original.] 


300  LIFE 

I  am  most  anxious  that  the  order  shall  be  given  for  him  to  see 
it,  as  it  was  with  this  intention  that  I  began  to  write  it;  and,  if 
he  thinks  I  am  on  the  right  road,  this  will  be  a  great  comfort  to 
me,  for  I  can  only  do  what  lies  in  my  power.  Your  Reverence 
must  act  in  everything  as  you  think  best  and  realize  your  obliga- 
tions to  one  who  thus  entrusts  you  with  her  soul. 

I  shall  commend  Your  Reverence's  soul  to  Our  Lord  all  my 
life  long.  Be  assiduous,  therefore,  in  serving  His  Majesty,  so  as 
to  help  me,  for  Your  Reverence  will  see  from  what  I  have  written 
here  how  well  we  use  our  time  if  we  do  as  Your  Reverence  has 
begun  to  do  and  give  ourselves  wholly  to  Him  Who  gives  Himself 
to  us  without  measure. 

May  He  be  blessed  for  ever,  and  I  trust  in  His  mercy  that 
Your  Reverence  and  I  shall  see  each  other  in  a  place  where  we 
shall  realize  more  clearly  what  great  things  He  has  done  for  us 
and  praise  Him  for  ever  and  ever.  Amen. 

This  book  was  ended  in  June  of  the  year  MDLXII.1 

1  P.  Banez  appends  the  following  note  "This  date  is  to  be  understood  as  referring 
to  the  first  draft  of  the  Life,  before  it  was  rewritten  and  divided  into  chapters.  To 
this  version  Mother  Teresa  of  Jesus  added  many  things  which  happened  after  this 
date,  such  as  the  foundation  of  the  convent  of  St.  Joseph,  Avila.  ..." 


SPIRITUAL    RELATIONS    ADDRESSED   BY 

SAINT  TERESA  OF  JESUS   TO   HER 

CONFESSORS 

INTRODUCTION 

In  her  Life,  as  we  have  seen,  St.  Teresa  lays  particular  stress 
upon  the  state  of  her  soul  and  the  great  favours  which  she  has 
received  from  God.  In  her  extreme  humility  she  makes  much 
of  her  faults  and  seems  unable  to  understand  how  such  signal 
gifts  can  possibly  be  granted  to  anyone  so  wicked.  Hence  spring 
those  constant  self-questionings  which  accompany  her  almost 
to  the  grave,  and  hence,  too,  springs  her  constant  desire  to  reveal 
her  spiritual  experiences  to  the  holiest  and  most  saintly  men  of 
her  time.  Her  autobiography  covers  almost  exactly  the  first 
fifty  years  of  her  life,  but  for  sixteen  years  more  she  received 
continual  favours  from  Heaven,  and  so  she  wrote  further 
accounts  of  her  spiritual  experiences  for  submission  to  the  judg- 
ment of  her  confessors.  These  are  known  as  the  Spiritual  Relations, 
and  they  may  be  considered  as  a  sequel  to  her  Life :  both  works, 
with  the  simplicity  of  truth  itself,  lay  bare  the  interior  of  her 
soul. 

This  essential  continuity  was  manifest  to  Fray  Luis  de  Leon, 
who  issued  as  an  appendix  to  the  Life  such  of  the  Relations  as 
were  in  his  possession.  Later  editors,  however,  have  dealt 
variously  with  them,  often  distributing  them,  according  to 
their  dates,  among  the  Letters,  and  thus  completely  destroying 
their  cumulative  effect  and  their  unity.  Many,  too,  they 
omitted  and  others  they  printed  in  an  incomplete  or  mutilated 
form. 

Those  published  in  this  volume  extend  from  1560  to  very 
shortly  before  her  death  in  1582.  Five  of  them  are  addressed 
to  her  confessors.  The  first,  which  begins:  "My  present  method 
of  procedure  in  prayer  is  this,"  is  thought  to  have  been  written 
to  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara,  though  the  Saint  herself  appears  to 
contradict  this  view  by  saying  that  she  gave  it  to  her  confessor, 
who  made  an  exact  copy  of  it  and  discussed  it  with  other  theo- 
logians, among  whom  was  P.  Mancio.1  The  inference  from  this 
observation  would  be  that  the  Relation  was  addressed  to  P. 
Ibdnez,  who,  as  we  know  from  Yepes2,  did  consult  with  P. 

1  Relations,  III  (p.  319,  below). 
aYepes.  Pr6logo. 

301 


302  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS 

Mancio  over  St.  Teresa.  Further,  this  Relation  was  written  about 
the  middle  of  1560,  a  time  at  which  its  author  was  in  constant 
touch  with  P.  Ibanez.  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara,  however,  may  well 
have  read  it,  for  he  too  was  in  close  contact  with  her,  and,  as 
we  know  from  the  Life,  they  made  an  agreement  together  that 
she  should  apprise  him  of  anything  noteworthy  which  might 
happen  to  her,  though  he  adjured  her  also  to  report  everything 
to  her  confessor.1  The  probability,  then,  is  that  the  Relation 
was  addressed  to  P.  Ibanez  and  its  contents  were  communicated 
to  the  Franciscan  Saint. 

The  second  Relation,  a  sequel  to  the  first,  was  written,  as  we 
learn  from  its  heading,  rather  more  than  a  year  later  at  the 
Toledo  palace  of  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Cerda.  As  her  friend  P.  Garcia 
de  Toledo  was  in  the  city  at  that  time,  it  is  probable  that  he 
too  saw  it,  and,  as  during  the  same  period  St.  Peter  of  Alcantara 
came  to  Toledo,  at  Dona  Luisa's  invitation,  to  discuss  the  pro- 
jected Discalced  Carmelite  foundation,  he  may  very  well  have 
seen  it  also.  It  was  written,  however,  quite  definitely,  for  P. 
Ibanez. 

Complementary  to  these  two  Relations  is  a  third,  which  was 
written  in  the  Convent  of  St.  Joseph's,  Avila,  some  nine  months 
after  the  completion  of  the  second,  or  near  the  beginning 
of  the  year  1563^  P.  Jeronimo  de  San  Jose  believes  that  it  was 
addressed  to  P.  Garcia  de  Toledo3:  this  seems  quite  likely, 
unless  the  recipient  were  P.  Domingo  Banez. 

Ribera  and  Yepes,  in  their  respective  biographies  of  St.  Teresa, 
were  the  first  to  publish  these  Relations.  In  1615  they  were 
reprinted  by  P.  Tomas  de  Jesiis,4  and  later,  by  P.  Jeronimo 
«de  San  Jose  and  P.  Francisco  de  Santa  Maria.  The  first  edition  of 
the  Saint's  works  in  which  they  appeared  was  Moreto's  Antwerp 
^edition  of  1630;  in  later  editions  they  were  published  as  letters. 
Antonio  de  San  Jose,  in  his  notes  to  St.  Teresa's  letters  published 
in  the  1778  edition,  says  that  the  autographs  of  these  Relations 
were  to  be  found  in  the  town  of  Bejar:  their  present  whereabouts 
is  unfortunately  unknown. 

Of  three  further  Relations,  addressed  by  St.  Teresa  to  her 
confessors,  which  have  come  down  to  us,  two  were  written  for 
P.  Rodrigo  Alvarez,  S.  J.,  and  the  third  for  Don  Alonso  Velazquez, 
Canon  of  Toledo,  later  Bishop  of  Osma.  St  Teresa  had  suffered 
a  great  deal  in  Seville,  chiefly  through  the  false  accusations  of 

iLife,  Chap.  XXX  (p.  196,  above). 

*  [P.  Silverio  (II,  xiu)  says  "at  the  Incarnation",  but  cf.  p.  316,  below.  St.  Teresa 
is  believed  to  have  left  the  Incarnation  for  St.  Joseph's  about  March  1 563,  if  not  earlier*] 

A  Histona  del  Carmen  Descalzo,  Bk.  V,  Chap.  VI,  p.  807. 

*  [SSM.  II,  281-306.] 


INTRODUCTION  303 

a  hysterical  nun  who,  after  plaguing  the  community  in  which  she 
lived  with  her  eccentricities  and  extravagances,  left  it  and  made 
the  gravest  accusations  against  it  to  the  Inquisition.  The  greatest 
sufferer  here  was  the  Mother  Foundress,  and,  as  so  often  happened 
before,  her  spirit  came  out  of  the  fiery  trial  newly  purified.  To 
examine  her  the  Holy  Office  appointed  P.  Rodrigo  Alvarez, 
widely  known  as  a  prudent  and  discreet  director  of  souls,  and  the 
first  of  these  two  Relations  was  addressed  to  him  in  his  official 
capacity.  P.  Alvarez  completely  vindicated  her — and  the  second 
of  the  Relations  was  written  to  him  in  his  private  capacity  as  a 
spiritual  director. 

In  the  earlier  of  the  two,  St.  Teresa  writes  in  the  third  person 
and  enumerates  many  of  her  spiritual  directors.  After  writing  it, 
she  made  another  copy  of  it,  with  slight  variations.  That  used 
by  Ribera,  who  says  (Bk.  I,  Chap.  VII)  that  he  had  the  auto- 
graph before  him,  is  found  in  the  Avila  and  Toledo  codices; 
the  other,  which  belongs  to  the  Discalced  Carmelite  Friars  of 
Viterbo,  in  Italy,  and  has  never  previously  been  published  in  a 
Spanish  edition  of  St.  Teresa's  works,  is  followed  here.  It  appears 
to  have  been  the  original  draft  and  is  clearly  preferable  to  what 
are  only  copies,  however  good,  of  the  second  redaction.  Of  the 
second  Relation  addressed  to  P.  Alvarez  the  original  is  lost  and 
we  have  to  rely  on  a  number  of  contemporary  copies. 

The  last  of  these  Relations  addressed  to  confessors  was  written 
in  May  1581,  when  St.  Teresa  was  busy  with  her  foundation 
at  Palencia.  It  was  written  for  her  great  friend  Dr.  Velazquez, 
Bishop  of  Osma,  who  had  been  her  confessor  at  Toledo  and  to 
whom  she  refers  in  her  letters  in  the  highest  terms.  The  Bishop 
in  his  turn  thought  highly  of  the  Mother  Foundress,  and,  wishing 
to  have  one  of  her  reformed  convents  in  his  diocese,  had  written 
to  her  on  the  subject.  Before  leaving  for  this  purpose,  she  wrote 
this  account  of  her  spiritual  state  in  what  may  <  be  considered 
the  last  revelation  of  her  soul  that  she  ever  gave.  It  was  first 
published  in  1647  and  until  now  has  always  been  included  among 
the  Letters.  Two  considerable  fragments  of  the  autograph  are 
preserved  in  the  Discalced  Carmelite  Convent  of  St.  Anne,  in 
Madrid. 

Besides  these  Relations  there  exist  numerous  shorter  ones, 
many  of  them  written  after  Communion.  Some  may  well  have 
been  parts  of  reports,  either  never  completed  or  subsequently  lost, 
•jvritten  for  her  confessors;  a  good  many  contain  allusions  to  her 
friends  and  acquaintances,  pre-eminent  among  whom  is  P. 
Jerdnimo  Gracian.  It  is  noteworthy  that  most  of  the  Relations 
were  written  either  before  1562  or  after  1571 :  the  reason  may  be 
quoted  from  Maria  de  San  Jose,  who  writes  as  follows : 


304  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS 

When  the  convent  [of  St.  Joseph,  Avila]  had  been  founded 
and  everything  was  settled  in  a  clear  and  straightforward 
way,  the  Mother  .  .  .  was  happy  and  had  no  wish  to  go  on 
writing  of  the  many  wonders  which  the  Lord  revealed  to  her, 
until  subsequently  Our  Lord  commanded  her  to  do  so  and  she 
began  to  describe  other  of  her  revelations  in  a  little  book 
(cuademito]  which  begins:  "The  year  fifteen  hundred  and 
seventy-one."1 

The  cuadernito  in  which  St.  Teresa  wrote  her  records  after  this 
date  has  long  since  disappeared,  though  some  of  her  own  nuns 
refer  to  having  seen  it  or  had  it  in  their  hands.  Ribera,  it  appears, 
also  handled  it.  Other  of  the  shorter  Relations  were  copied  at 
first  hand  by  her  early  biographers:  we  shall  indicate  in  foot- 
notes which  of  these  autographs  still  remain. 

La  Fuente's  edition  of  the  Relations^  though  far  from  satisfactory 
whether  as  regards  the  text  or  the  notes,  was  the  fullest  that  had 
appeared  down  to  his  day.  It  was  based,  as  any  such  edition  must 
be,  upon  two  codices,  which  are  preserved  in  the  convents  of 
Discalced  Carmelites  in  Avila  and  Toledo.  The  Avila  codex 
is  a  quarto  volume  containing  other  documents  than  the  Relations 
copied  by  different  hands.  The  manuscript  is  approximately 
contemporary  with  St.  Teresa.  The  hand  seems  to  be  that  of 
Ana  de  San  Pedro,  who  professed  at  St.  Joseph's,  Avila,  in  1571, 
and  died  in  1588;  it  is  exceptionally  clear,  and  the  probability 
is  that  the  Mother  Foundress  herself  employed  this  nun  as  a  copyist. 
The  copy  is  a  most  reliable  one  and  is  the  basis  of  all  the  Relations 
in  this  edition  of  which  there  is  no  extant  autograph.  The 
second  important  copy  of  the  Relations  is  to  be  found  in  a  codex 
belonging  to  the  Discalced  Carmelite  nuns  of  Toledo,  following 
a  manuscript  copy  of  the  Foundations.  The  hand  is  an  excellent 
one  contemporary  with  that  of  the  Avila  codex  and  the  copy  is 
equally  complete,  though  rather  less  faithful,  alterations  being 
made  sometimes  for  theological  and  sometimes  for  orthographical 
reasons,  and  sometimes,  too,  I  suspect,  with  an  eye  to  literary 
style.  A  number  of  paragraphs  are  omitted,  presumably  because 
the  copyist,  who  was  clearly  a  person  of  culture  and  a  theologian, 
did  not  approve  of  them. 

A  number  of  other  copies  exist:  one,  in  the  National  Library 
of  Spain,  was  made  under  the  direction  of  P.  Andres  de  la 
Encarnacion  for  the  General  Archives  of  the  Discalced  Carmelites; 
another,  belonging  to  the  Carmelite  nuns  of  Salamanca,  seems  to 
be  in  the  handwriting  of  the  Saint's  niece,  Teresita3  and  contains 

11  Rtcreocidn  ociova. 


INTRODUCTION  3°5 

thirty-eight  Relations;  in  the  library  of  the  Royal  Academy 
of  History,  too,  there  exists  a  copy  of  the  Foundations,  at  the  end 
of  which  come  a  number  of  Relations,  transcribed  in  the  hand  of 
P.  Ribera.  For  the  Relations  which  refer  to  P.  Gracian  there  are 
other  sources  the  authenticity  of  which  is  beyond  dispute.  The 
chief  of  these  is  a  sworn  copy  witnessed  by  [an  Apostolic  Notary, 
Juan  Vazquez  del  Marmol,  and  dated  September  30,  1603, 
which  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Discalced  Carmelite  Friars  of 
Avila.  Other  copies  will  be  referred  to  in  footnotes  to  the  text. 
The  order  followed  in  this  edition  is,  so  far  as  possible,  that 
in  which  the  documents  were,  not  written,  but  received.  Of  some 
the  ex;act  dates  are  known;  those  of  others  are  difficult  to  deter- 
mine. Excellent  work  has  been  done  here  by  the  Carmelite 
nuns  of  Paris  in  their  well-known  edition  of  St.  Teresa's  writings. 
In  the  interests  of  clarity  we  give,  first  of  all,  the  Relations 
addressed  to  the  Saint's  confessors  and  then  the  accounts  of 
Divine  favours  written  in  note-books  or  on  separate  sheets  of 
paper.  La  Fuente,  in  our  view,  is  quite  wrong  to  call  the  work 
the  "Book  of  the  Relations":  it  is  in  no  sense  a  book,  but  the 
appendix  to  an  autobiography,  covering  chiefly  the  years  not 
represented  in  it. 


[I 


SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS 

ADDRESSED  BY  SAINT  TERESA  OF  JESUS  TO  HER  CONFESSORS 
FAVOURS  THAT  SHE  RECEIVED  FROM  GOD. 

RELATION  I 

From  the  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila,  in  the  year  isGo.1 

JESUS. 

My  present  method  of  procedure  in  prayer  is  this.  Only 
seldom,  when  I  am  in  prayer,  can  I  reason  with  the  under- 
standing, because  my  soul  at  once  becomes  recollected  and 
I  enter  the  state  of  quiet  or  that  of  rapture,  so  that  I  can  use 
none  of  my  faculties  and  senses.  Of  these  last  only  the  sense  of 
hearing  is  of  any  help  to  me;  and  even  then,  although  I  can  hear, 
I  cannot  understand  anything. 

It  often  happens  that,  when  I  am  not  trying  to  think  of  the 
things  of  God,  but  am  occupied  in  other  things,  and  when, 
however  much  I  endeavour  to  pray,  I  seem  unable  to  do  so 
because  of  great  aridity,  together  with  bodily  pains,  this  recol- 
lection and  elevation  of  the  spirit  comes  upon  me  so  quickly 
that  I  can  do  nothing  to  check  it,  and  in  a  moment  I  find  myself 
experiencing  the  effects  and  benefits  which  it  brings  with  it.  And 
this  happens  without  my  having  had  any  vision,  or  taken  in  anything 
with  the  mind,  or  realized  where  I  am,  save  that,  when  I  have 
thought  the  soul  to  be  lost,  I  have  found  that  it  is  enjoying  great 
benefits.  And  such  are  these  that,  even  if  I  tried  for  a  whole  year,  I 
do  not  think  that  I  could  possibly  produce  them  by  my  own  efforts. 

At  other  times  there  come  to  me  very  strong  impulses,  and 
in  its  desire  for  God  my  soul  faints  away  in  a  manner  which  I 
cannot  resist.  'It  seems  as  if  my  life  is  about  to  end,  and  this 
makes  me  cry  aloud  and  call  upon  God :  this  comes  upon  me  with 
great  vehemence.  Sometimes  it  makes  me  so  restless  that  I 
cannot  remain  seated  and  this  trouble  attacks  me  without  my 
having  done  anything  to  bring  it  on :  it  is  of  such  a  kind  that 
my  soul  would  like  never  to  be  free  from  it  for  as  long  as  I 
live.  For  my  yearnings  not  to  live,  even  while  I  seem  to  be  living, 
there  can  be  no  relief:  the  only  relief  for  them  is  the  vision  of 
God,  which  comes  through  death,  and  this  I  cannot  obtain  of 
Him.  So  it  seems  to  my  soul  that  all  creatures  save  itself  are  full 
of  consolations  and  that  all  save  itself  can  find  relief  for  their 

1  For  particulars  of  this  Relation,  see  pp.  301-2,  above. 
306 


I]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  307 

trials.  And  the  oppression  which  this  causes  is  such  that,  if 
the  Lord  did  not  relieve  it  by  means  of  some  rapture,  in 
which  everything  is  stilled,  and  the  soul  is  left  in  a  state  of 
great  quiet  and  deep  satisfaction,  sometimes  by  seeing  some- 
thing of  what  it  desires  and  at  other  times  by  hearing  such 
things,  it  would  seem  to  be  impossible  for  it  to  escape  from  that 
distress. 

At  times,  again,  there  come  to  me  desires  to  serve  God  with 
impulses  so  strong  that  I  cannot  describe  them,  and  with  a  distress 
caused  by  my  realization  of  my  own  unprofitableness.  I  think 
then  that  there  is  no  trial  that  could  present  itself  to  me,  or  any- 
thing else,  not  even  death  or  martyrdom,  which  I  could  not  easily 
suffer.  This,  too,  is  a  feeling  which  comes,  not  as  the  result  of 
reflection,  but  in  a  moment:  it  completely  transforms  me  and  I 
have  no  idea  whence  I  draw  so  much  courage.  I  think  I  should 
like  to  cry  aloud,  and  tell  everyone  how  important  it  is  for  them 
not  to  be  contented  with  just  a  little  and  how  many  blessings  there 
are  which  God  will  give  us  if  we  prepare  to  receive  them.  These 
desires,  I  repeat,  are  such  that  they  make  me  melt  inwardly, 
because  I  seem  to  be  wanting  what  I  cannot  have.  My  body 
seems  to  hold  me  bound,  so  that  there  is  no  way  in  which  I  can 
serve  God  and  my  religious  profession.  Were  it  not  for  my  body, 
I  should  do  quite  outstanding  things,  in  so  far  as  my  strength 
would  allow.  When  I  see  myself,  therefore,  deprived  of  power  to 
serve  God,  I  feel  distressed  in  a  way  which  I  cannot  describe, 
but  in  the  end  I  experience  joy  and  recollection  and  consolation 
from  God. 

At  other  times  it  has  happened  that,  when  these  longings 
to  serve  Him  come  upon  me,  I  want  to  do  penance,  but,am  not 
able.  Penance  would  be  a  great  relief  to  me,  and  is  in  fact  a 
relief  and  a  joy,  although  my  physical  weakness  is  such  that  my 
penances  are  hardly  anything.  Still,  if  I  allowed  myself  to 
indulge  these  desires,  I  think  they  would  be  excessive. 

Sometimes  the  necessity  of  intercourse  with  others  causes  me 
great  distress  and  afflicts  me  so  sorely  that  it  makes  me  shed 
floods  of  tears.  For  all  my  yearning  is  to  be  alone;  and,  although 
sometimes  I  am  unable  to  pray  or  read,  solitude  comforts  me, 
conversation,  especially  that  of  relatives  and  kinsfolk,  seems 
oppressive  to  me,  and  I  feel  I  am  in  great  danger  except  among 
people  with  whom  I  can  speak  of  prayer  and  of  the  soul.  From 
people  of  this  kind  I  derive  comfort  and  delight,  though  some- 
times they  cloy  and  I  want  to  see  no  more  of  them  but  to  go  away 
where  I  can  be  alone.  This,  however,  happens  seldom,  for  I 
always  find  those  to  whom  I  speak  of  my  conscience  a  particular 
consolation. 


3o8  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [I 

At  other  times  I  become  greatly  distressed  at  having  to  eat 
and  sleep,  and  at  finding  that  I  am  less  able  than  most  people 
to  forgo  doing  so.  I  eat  and  sleep,  therefore,  in  order  to  serve 
God  and  as  an  offering  made  to  Him.  All  time  seems  to  me  short, 
for  I  have  not  enough  of  it  for  prayer  and  I  should  never  tire  of 
being  alone.  I  am  always  wanting  to  have  time  for  reading, 
of  which  I  am  very  fond.  I  read  very  little;  for,  when  I  take  up 
a  book,  it  gives  me  such  pleasure  that  I  become  recollected  and  so 
my  reading  is  turned  into  prayer.  But  this  happens  seldom,  for 
I  have  many  occupations,  and  good  ones  at  that.  Yet  they  do 
not  give  me  the  same  pleasure  as  reading;  and  so  I  am  always 
wanting  more  time,  which,  I  think,  makes  everything  seem  very 
dull  to  me,  when  I  find  that  I  cannot  get  what  I  desire  and  long 
for. 

All  these  desires,  together  with  an  increase  of  virtue,  have 
been  given  me  by  Our  Lord  since  He  granted  me  this  Prayer  of 
Quiet  and  these  raptures.  I  find  myself  so  much  better  than  I 
was  that  I  feel  as  if  I  must  previously  have  been  a  lost  creature. 
These  raptures  and  visions  produce  in  me  the  benefits  that  I 
shall  now  describe,  and  I  hold  that,  if  there  is  anything  good  in 
me,  it  is  they  that  have  been  the  source  of  it.  I  have  become 
most  firmly  resolved  not  to  commit  even  a  venial  offence  against 
God  and  I  would  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  than  commit  one 
with  the  knowledge  that  I  was  doing  so.  I  have  made  a  resolution 
to  leave1  nothing  undone  which  I  think  will  tend  to  greater 
perfection  and  which  would  be  rendering  a  greater  service  to 
Our  Lord;  if  I  am  told  that  this  is  the  case  with  anything,  and 
am  directed  to  do-  it,  by  him  who  has  the  care  of  my  soul,  I  would 
not  fail  to  obey,  whatever  the  pain  it  might  cost  me,  for  all  the 
treasure  in  existence.  If  I  acted  otherwise,  I  do  not  think  I 
should  have  the  face  to  ask  anything  6f  God  our  Lord,  or  to 
practise  prayer,  although  I  do  all  this  with  many  faults  and 
imperfections.  I  render  obedience,  however  imperfectly,  to  my 
confessor;  and  if  I  realize  that  he  wants  me  to  do  something, 
or  if  he  orders  me  to  do  it,  I  do  not  think  I  am  likely  to  fail; 
if  I  did,  I  should  think  I  was  going  far  astray. 

I  have  a  desire  for  poverty,  though  this,  too,  is  imperfect; 
but  I  do  not  believe  that,  even  if  I  had  great  wealth,  I  should 
keep  any  private  income  or  hoard  up  money  for  myself  alone,  for 
I  have  no  interest  in  such  things :  I  should  only  want  what  was 
•necessary  for  me.  But,  none  the  less,  I  am  afraid  I  am  very 
deficient  in  this  virtue,  for,  although  I  want  nothing  for  myself— 
either  a  regular  income  or  anything  else — I  should  like  to  have 
money  to  give  away. 

Almost  all  the  visions  that  I  have  had  have  been  beneficial 


I]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  309 

to  me,  unless  I  am  being  deceived  by  the  devil :  in  this  matter  I 
follow  the  judgment  of  my  confessors. 

When.  I  see  any  rich  or  beautiful  thing,  such  as  water,  fields,  or 
flowers,  smell  perfumes  or  hear  music,  I  think  I  should  prefer  not 
to  see  or  hear  them,  for  they  are  so  different  from  what  I 
am  accustomed  to  that  all  desire  for  them  leaves  me.  Hence 
I  have  come  to  care  so  little  for  such  things  that,  except  at  first, 
I  never  think  of  them,  and  look  upon  them  as  so  much  rubbish. 

If,  as  may  be  unavoidable,  I  talk  or  hold  intercourse  with 
worldly  people,  even  about  things  relating  to  prayer,  and  if  I 
do  this  unnecessarily  or  at  any  length,  even  for  the  sake  of  passing 
the  time,  I  have  to  keep  forcing  myself  to  do  it,  for  it  causes  me 
great  distress.  Amusements  and  worldly  things,  of  which  I  used 
to  be  fond,  are  all  unpleasant  to  me:  I  can  no  longer  look  at  them. 

These  desires,  which  I  said  I  have,  to  love  and  serve  God,  and 
to  see  Him,  are  not  increased  by  meditations,  as  they  used  to  be 
once,  when  I  thought  I  was  very  devout  and  shed  many  tears. 
They  are  accompanied  by  such  excessive  enkindlement  and 
fervour  that,  I  repeat,  if  God  did  not  grant  me  relief  through 
an  occasional  rapture,  in  which  my  soul  seems  to  find  satisfaction, 
I  believe  they  would  be  sufficient  to  bring  my  life  very  quickly 
to  an  end. 

When  I  see  people  making  great  progress,  and  being  resolute 
and  detached  and  courageous,  I  conceive  a  great  love  for  them 
and'  should  be  glad  if  I  could  see  more  of  them:  I  think  they  are 
a  help  to  me.  People  whom  I  see  to  be  timid  and  who  appear 
to  be  making  half-hearted  attempts  to  do  things  which  so  far 
as  human  reason  can  judge  they  can  do  perfectly  well  seem  to 
distress  me  and  make  me  pray  to  God  for  them  and  to  the  saints 
who  accomplished  these  very  things  which  now  frighten  us. 
Not  that  I  am  good  for  anything,  but  I  believe  that  God  helps 
those  who  set  out  to  do  great  things  for  His  sake  and  never  fails 
those  who  trust  in  Him  alone.  And  I  should  like  to  find  someone 
who  would  help  me  to  believe  this  to  be  so,  and  to  have  no 
anxiety  about  what  I  am  to  eat  and  to  put  on,  but  to  leave  it  to 
God. 

It  is  not  to  be  understood  that  this  leaving  of  my  needs  to  God 
precludes  me  from  trying  to  obtain  them  for  myself;  it  precludes 
only  anxiety — I  mean,  anxiety  on  my  part.  And  now  that  God 
has  given  me  this  freedom,  I  get  on  well  in  this  respect  and  try 
-as  far  as  possible  to  forget  myself.  I  do  not  think  a  year  can  have 
passed  since  Our  Lord  gave  it  me. 

As  far  as  I  know — glory  be  to  God ! — I  am  free  from  vainglory,1 

1  [Lit :  "Vainglory,  glory  to  Crod,  as  far  as  I  know,  there  is  no  reason  to  have  it." 
I  thiak  the  repetition  of  "glory"  is  intentional  and  emphatic.] 


3io  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [I 

and  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  have  any,  for  I  see  clearly 
that  no  credit  belongs  to  me  for  the  things  given  me  by  God. 
In  fact,  God  makes  me  conscious  of  my  own  wretchedness; 
and,  however  much  I  gave  my  mind  to  it,  I  do  not  think  I  could 
ever  become  aware  of  as  many  truths  as  I  now  learn  in  a  short 
period  of  time. 

When  I  speak  of  these  experiences,  a  few  days  after  they  happen, 
they  seem  to  me  like  those  of  another  person.  Previously,  I 
used  sometimes  to  think  that  any  who  knew  they  had  happened 
to  me  were  doing  me  a  wrong,  but  now  it  seems  that  I  am  no 
better  for  them,  but  worse,  since  I  receive  so  many  favours  yet 
profit  by  them  so  little.  I  am  sure  that  nowhere  in  the  world  has 
there  ever  been  a  worse  person  than  myself;  the  virtues  of  others 
seem  to  me  much  more  praiseworthy  than  my  own,  for  I  do 
nothing  but  receive  favours,  whereas  others  will  receive  from  God 
all  at  once  what  He  is  being  pleased  to  give  me  here.  I  beg 
Him  that  it  may  not  be  His  will  to  keep  rewarding  me  in  this 
life,  but  I  believe  that  He  has  led  me  by  this  road  because  I  am 
weak  and  wicked. 

When  I  am  in  prayer,  and  in  fact  at  almost  any  time  when 
I  am  able  to  reflect  a  little,  I  cannot  ask  or  desire  God  to  give  me 
rest,  and  I  could  not  even  if  I  tried;  for  I  see  that  throughout  His 
own  life  He  was  never  without  trials,  and  these  I  beg  Him  to 
give  me,  if  He  first  gives  me  grace  to  bear  them. 

Everything  of  this  kind,  and  things  of  the  most  sublime  per- 
fection, seem  to  be  so  deeply  impressed  upon  me  in  prayer  that 
I  am  amazed  when  I  see  so  many  and  such  evident  truths  and 
they  make  worldly  things  seem  to  me  folly;  and  so  I  have  to  be 
very  careful  when  I  think  what  I  used  to  be  like  with  regard 
to  worldly  things,  for  it  seems  to  me  folly  to  be  grieved  by  deaths 
or  by  the  trials  of  this  world — or,  at  least,  to  allow  one's  grief  or 
love  for  relatives  or  friends  to  persist  for  a  very  long  time.  As  I 
say,  I  have  to  go  very  carefully  when  I  consider  the  kind  of 
person  I  was  and  the  way  I  used  to  feel  these  things. 

If  I  see  people  do  things  which  seem  clearly  to  be  sins,  I  cannot 
feel  sure  that  they  have  offended  God,  and  if  I  stop  and  reflect 
upon  the  matter,  which  I  hardly  ever  do,  I  have  never  been 
able  to  feel  sure  of  this,  however  clearly  I  have  seen  it.  It  has  always 
seemed  to  me  that  everyone  is  as  careful  about  serving  God  as  I 
am.  And  herein  God  has  been  very  gracious  to  me,  for  I  never 
dwell  upon  anything  wrong  which  a  person  has  done,  so  as  to 
remember  it  afterwards;  if  I  do  remember  it,  I  always  see  some 
other  virtue  in  that  person.  So,  except  in  a  general  way,  these 
things  never  worry  me,  though  heresies  often  distress  me,  and  when 
I  think  of  them  they  almost  always  seem  to  me  the  only  kiryi  of 


I]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  311 

trial  that  should  give  cause  for  affliction.  And  I  am  also  grieved 
if  I  see  people  who  used  to  practise  prayer  suffering  a  relapse: 
this  troubles  me,  though  not  seriously,  because  I  try  not  to  dwell 
upon  it.  I  am  also  much  freer  from  fastidiousness  than  I  used 
to  be,  though  I  am  not  wholly  so,  for  I  do  not  find  that  I  am 
always  mortified  in  this  respect,  though  I  sometimes  am. 

All  this  that  I  have  described  is,  so  far  as  I  can  understand, 
what  normally  takes  place  in  my  soul:  to  it  must  be  added  that  * 
my  thought  is  continually  fixed  upon  God.  And  even  when  I 
am  occupied  with  other  matters,  without  wishing  to  be  so,  as  I 
say,  I  do  not  understand  who  it  is  that  awakens  me.  This  is  not 
always  the  case,  but  only  when  I  am  engaged  in  matters  of 
importance;  which — glory  be  to  God! — demand  my  attention 
only  occasionally,  and  not  always. 

Sometimes,  though  not  often,  for  perhaps  three,  four  or  five 
days  on  end,  I  feel  as  if  all  good  thoughts  and  fervent  impulses 
and  visions  are  leaving  me,  and  are  even  vanishing  from  my 
memory,  so  that  I  cannot  recall  anything  good  that  there  has 
ever  been  in  me  even  if  I  wish.  Everything  seems  like  a  drearn — 
or,  at  least,  I  can  remember  nothing  of  it.  'And  in  addition  to 
all  this  I  am  oppressed  by  bodily  pains:  my  understanding  is 
troubled,  so  that  I  cannot  think  in.  the  very  least  about  God 
and  have  no  idea  under  what  law  I  am  living.  If  I  read,  I  can- 
not understand  what  I  am  reading;  I  seem  to  be  full  of  faults 
and  am  not  courageous  enough  to  be  virtuous,  and  the  courage 
of  which  I  used  to  have  plenty  has  sunk  so  low  that  I  feel  I  should 
be  unable  to  resist  the  smallest  of  the  temptations  or  slanders  of 
the  world.  At  such  a  time  I  get  the  idea  that  if  I  am  to  be 
employed  for  anything  beyond  the  most  ordinary  matters  I  shall 
be  useless.  I  grow  sad,  thinking  I  have  deceived  everyone  who 
has  any  belief  in  me;  I  want  to  be  able  to  hide  myself  where 
nobody  can  see  me;  and  my  desire  for  solitude  is  the  result, 
no  longer  of  virtue,  but  of  pusillanimity.  I  feel  that  I  should 
like  to  quarrel  with  all  who  oppose  me;  and  I  cannot  escape 
from  this  conflict,  but  God  grants  me  the  favour  of  preserving  me 
from  offending  Him  more  than  usual,  and  from  asking  Him  to 
take  this  trial  from  me;  if  it  is  His  will  that  I  should  bear  it  for 
ever,  I  ask  Him  to  keep  me  in  His  hand  lest  I  offend  Him.  With 
my  whole  heart  I  resign  myself  to  His  will,  and  I  believe  He  is 
bestowing  the  greatest  of  favours  upon  me  in  not  keeping  me  in 
this  state  for  ever. 

One  thing  amazes  me:  that,  while  I  am  in  this  condition,  I 
have  only  to  hear  a  single  one  of  those  words  which  I  am  in  the 
habit  of  hearing,  or  to  see  a  vision,  or  to  experience  a  little 
recollection,  of  the  duration  of  an  Ave  Maria,  or  to  approach 


SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [I 

the  altar  for  Communion,  and  my  soul  and  body  become  quite 
quiet  and  calm  and  my  understanding  grows  quite  clear,  and 
I  have  as  much  fortitude  and  as  many  good  desires  as  usual. 
Of  this  I  have  very  frequent  experience — at  least  when  I  com- 
municate. For  more  than  six  months  past  I  have  felt  remarkably 
well  as  to  bodily  health,  and  during  this  period  I  have  experienced 
a  number  of  raptures.  Sometimes  the  improvement  has  lasted 
for  over  three  hours,  while  at  other  times  I  have  been  much 
better  in  health  for  a  whple  day.  I  do  not  think  this  is  fancy, 
for  I  have  taken  note  of  the  occurrence  and  considered  it  care- 
fully. When  I  am  recollected  in  this  way,  therefore,  I  am  not 
afraid  of  any  illness.  None  the  less,  when  I  engage  in  the  kind  of 
prayer  to  which  I  was  accustomed  previously,  I  do  not  feel  this 
improvement. 

All  the  things  I  have  described  make  me  believe  that  these 
things  come  from  God;  for,  when  I  remember  what  I  was  and 
how  I  was  on  the  road  to  perdition  and  should  soon  have  arrived 
there,  my  soul  is  truly  amazed  at  tfyese  things,  and  I  cannot 
think  whence  these  virtues  have  come  to  me.  Without  under- 
standing myself,  I  have  realized  that  they  are  things  that  have 
been  bestowed  on  me  and  not  gained  by  labour.  I  really  and 
truly  understand,  and  I  know  I  am  not  wrong,  that  not  only 
has  this  been  a  means  by  which  God  has  drawn  me  to  His 
service  but  that  He  has  also  used  it  to  draw  me  out  of  hell. 
This  is  well  known  to  my  confessors,  to  whom  I  have  made  a 
general  confession. 

Also  when  I  see  anybody  who  knows  anything  about  me,  I 
feel  I  should  like  to  tell  him  about  my  whole  life,  for  the  only 
honour1  I  have  seems  to  consist  in  Our  Lord's  being  praised — 
nothing  else  troubles  me  in  the  least.  And  well  He  knows, 
unless  I  am  very  blind,  that  neither  honour  nor  life  nor  glory 
nor  any  blessing,  whether  physical  or  spiritual,  has  the  power  to 
hinder  me,  and  that  I  neither  wish  nor  desire  my  own  advantage, 
but  only  His  glory.  I  cannot  believe  that  the  devil  has  sought  out 
all  these  means  by  which  my  soul  has  benefited,  if  they  are 
eventually  to  be  the  means  of  his  losing  it :  I  do  not  take  him  to  be 
so  foolish  as  that.  Nor  can  I  believe  it  of  God  that,  although  I ' 
may  have  deserved  to  be  deluded  because  of  my  sins,  He  has  dis- 
regarded so  many  prayers  offered  by  so  many  good  people 
for  two  years  past,  for  I  do  nothing  but  beg  everybody  to  pray 
for  me  so  that  the  Lord  may  grant  me  to  know  if  this  is  for  His 
glory,  or  may  lead  me  by  another  road.  I  do  not  think  His 
Divine  Majesty  would  allow  these  things  to  be  so  „  continually 
happening  if  they  did  not  come  from  Him.  I  am  fortified  by  thdse 

1  [Honra.  Cf.  p.  14,  n.  2,  above  ] 


I]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  313 

thoughts,  and  by  the  words  of  so  many  of  the  saints,  when  I  am 
attacked  by  these  fears  that  my  experiences  may  not  be  from 
God,  since  I  am  so  wicked.  But  when  I  am  in  prayer,  and  on 
days  when  I  am  enjoying  quiet  and  my  thoughts  are  fixed  on 
God,  all  the  learned  men  and  saints  in  the  world  might  unite 
in  tormenting  me  with  all  imaginable  tortures,  and,  even  if  I 
wanted  to  believe  them,  they  could  not  make  me  believe  that 
this  is  the  devil's  work,  because  I  cannot.  When  they  did  try  to 
make  me  believe  this,  I  was  afraid,  seeing  who  they  were  that 
spoke  to  me  in  that  way,  for  I  thought  that  they  must  be  speaking 
the  truth,  and  that  I,  being  who  I  was,  must  be  mistaken.  But 
the  very  first  word  I  heard,  or  the  very  first  moment  of  recol- 
lection or  vision,  was  sufficient  to  destroy  the  effect  of  all  they  had 
said  to  me;  and  I  found  it  impossible  not  to  believe  that  my 
experiences  came  from  God. 

Nevertheless  I  can  believe  that  the  devil  may  sometimes  take 
a  hand  in  them — he  does,  in  fact,  as  I  have  seen,  and  have  said. 
But  the  effects  which  he  produces  are  different  and  I  do  not 
believe  he  will  ever  deceive  any  person  of  experience.  At  the  same 
time  I  must  add  that,  though  I  certainly  believe  myself  to  be  led 
by  God,  I  would  never  on  any  account  do  anything  which  my 
direct6r  did  not  think  was  for  the  greater  service  of  Our  Lord, 
and  I  have  never  had  any  intention  but  that  of  obeying  him  and 
concealing  nothing,  for  that  is  incumbent  upon  me.  I  am  very 
often  rebuked  for  my  faults  in  a  way  that  pierces  me  to  the 
quick  and  I  am  given  warning  when  anything  I  am  doing  is 
leading  me,  or  may  lead  me,  into  danger.  Such  warnings  have 
done  me  a  great  deal  of  good,  for  they  often  remind  me  of  my 
past  sins  and  make  me  extremely  sorry  for  them. 

I  have  written  at  great  length,  but  the  simple  truth  is  that, 
when  I  rise  from  prayer  and  think  of  all  the  blessings  I  have 
received,  I  feel  I  have  not  the  words  to  describe  them.  Then, 
afterwards,  I  realize  how  numerous  are  my  imperfections  and  how 
unprofitable  and  how  dreadfully  wicked  I  am.  Perhaps  I  do 
not  understand  things  that  are  good  and  am  being  deluded;  but 
the  difference  in  my  life  is  noteworthy  and  makes  me  think  over 
all  I  have  said — I  mean  what  I  believe  I  have  really  felt.  These 
are  the  perfections  which  I  feel  the  Lord  has  wrought  in  me,  who 
am  so  wicked  and  so  imperfect.  I  submit  it  all  to  Your  Reverence's 
judgment,  since  you  know  all  about  my  soul. 


3i4  -  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [II 


RELATION  II 

From  the  Palace  of  Dona  Luisa  de  la  Cerda,  in  the  year 

JESUS, 

I  believe  more  than  a  year  has  passed  since  I  wrote  what 
follows.  All  this  time  God  has  kept  me  in  His  -hand  so  that  I 
have  become  no  worse:  indeed,  I  can  see  that  what  I  say  shows 
a  great  deal  of  improvement.  May  He  be  praised  for  it  all. 

The  visions  and  revelations  have  not  ceased  but  they  are  much 
more  sublime.  The  Lord  has  taught  me  a  method  of  prayer 
which  I  find  brings  me  greater  progress,  makes  me  much  more 
detached  in  the  affairs  of  this  life  and  gives  me  increased  courage 
and  freedom.  My  raptures  have  become  more  numerous,  and 
often  they  come  upon  me  violently,  and  in  such  a  way  that  they 
are  recognizable  by  external  signs,  and,  even  when  I  am  with 
others,  I  cannot  resist  them.  For  they  come  in  a  way  which  cannot 
be  hidden  unless  I  attribute  them  to  my  heart  weakness  and  give 
it  to  be  understood  that  they  are  swoons.  Although  at  their  onset 
I  make  great  efforts  to  withstand  them,  I  cannot  always  do  so. 

With  regard  to  poverty,  God  seems  to  have  granted  me  great 
favours,  for  I  should  not  want  to  have  even  the  bare  necessaries 
of  life  unless  they  were  given  me  as  alms,  and  so  I  am  extremely 
anxious  to  live  only  where  I  can  be  dependent  upon  alms  exclu- 
sively. It  seems  to  me  that  to  be  where  I  am  sure  not  to  be  short 
of  food  and  clothing  is  a  less  perfect  observance  of  my  vow,  and 
of  the  counsel  of  Christ,  than  to  be  in  a  house  which  has  no  money 
so  that  I  am  sometimes  in  want.  There  seem  to  me  a  great  many 
blessings  which  come  from  true  poverty  and  I  should  be  sorry  to 
be  deprived  of  them.  I  often  find  I  have  such  great  faith  that  I 
believe  God  can  never  fail  those  who  serve  Him  and  I  feel  certain 
that  there  is  not,  and  cannot  be,  any  time  when  His  words  will 
fail.  I  cannot  persuade  myself  of  the  contrary,  or  be  in  the  least 
afraid,  and  so,  when  I  am  advised  to  accept  an  endowment,  I 
become  greatly  distressed  and  turn  to  God. 

I  think  I  have  much  more  compassion  on  the  poor  than  I 
used  to  have,  for  I  am  very  sorry  for  them  and  am  anxious 
to  help  them;  and,  if  I  considered  only  my  own  feelings,  I  should 
give  them  the  very  clothes  I  have  on.  They  cause  me  no  repulsion, 
even  when  I  mix  with  them  and  touch  them,  and  this,  I  now  see, 
is  a  gift  of  God,  for,  though  I  used  to  give  alms  for  love  of  Him, 

1  [Gf.  p.  302,  above], 


II]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  315 

I  had  no  natural  compassion.    I  realize  that  I  have  improved 
most  notably  in  this. 

Again  when  people — and  there  are  many  such — say  evil  things 
about  me,  which  are  likely  to  cause  me  harm,  as  they  often 
do,  I  find  myself  very  much  the  better  for  this :  it  seems  to  make 
no  more  impression  on  me  than  it  would  on  an  idiot.  I  think 
that  sometimes — nearly  always,  indeed — they  are  right.  I  mind 
it  so  little  that  there  seems  to  me  nothing  in  it  that  I  can  offer 
to  God,  for  I  know  by  experience  that  any  soul  gains  greatly 
by  such  things,  so  it  looks  rather  as  if  these  people  are  doing  me 
good.  The  very  first  time,  therefore,  that  I  betake  myself  to  prayer, 
any  resentment  I  have  for  them  vanishes,  and  although,  when 
I  first  hear  of  such  things,  I  feel  a  little  annoyed  by  them,  they 
neither  disturb  nor  affect  me:  indeed,  when  from  time  to  time 
I  see  other  people  disturbed  and  affected  in  this  way,  I  am  sorry 
for  them.  For  my  own  part,  I  just  laugh  to  myself,1  for  all  the 
wrongs  of  this  life  seem  to  me  so  light  that  their  weight  cannot 
be  felt :  I  imagine  myself  to  be  dreaming,  and  I  know  that,  when 
I  awake,  this  will  all  be  nothing. 

With  these  visions,  as  I  have  said,  God  is  giving  me  keener 
desires,  a  greater  love  of  solitude  and  much  more  detachment- 
By  means  of  these  visions  He  has  shown  me  how  little  it  will 
amount  to  even  if  I  leave  the  whole  of  my  friends,  both  men  and 
women,  and  my  kinsfolk.  This  last,  however,  is  the  least  important 
thing,  for  my  relatives  tire  me  dreadfully. ,  I  leave  them  all  freely 
and  joyfully,  when  by  doing  so  I  can  serve  God  ever  so  little  better; 
and  thus  I  find  peace  everywhere. 

Certain  things  about  which  I  have  been  warned  in  prayer 
have  turned  out  to  be  quite  true.  So,  as  regards  my  receiving 
favours  from  God,  I  find  myself  greatly  improved;  but  as  regaijds 
the  services  which  I  render  Him,  I  am  very  much  worse  than 
before.  For  I  liave  received  the  greatest  consolation  which  God 
offers,  and  again  and  again  this  causes  me  great  distress.  The 
penances  I  do  are  very  slight;  the  honour  that  is  shown  me, 
though  often  against  my  own  will,  is  great.  In  short,  I  realize 
I  am  living  a  very  comfortable  life  and  not  in  the  least  a  life  of 
penance.  May  God  remedy  this,  as  He  can. 

1  Me  rio.  Thus  Ribera,  and  this  reading  seems  a  better  one  than  the  me  deshago 
["I  am  consumed  or  undone":  cf.  p.  no,  n.  i,  above]  of  several  early  manuscripts. 


316  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [III 

RELATION  III 
From  Saint  Joseph's,  Avila,  in  the  year  156s.1 

The  lines  which  follow  in  my  own  hand  I  wrote  somewhere 
about  nine  months  ago.  Since  that  time  I  have  not  turned  my 
back  on  the  favours  which  God  has  granted  me.  As  far  as  I  can 
understand,  I  believe  I  have  been  granted  much  greater  freedom 
of  late.  Until  recently  I  used  to  think  I  needed  other  people  and 
I  had  more  confidence  in  worldly  aids,  but  now  I  clearly  realize 
that  they  are  none  of  them  of  any  more  use  than  dry  rosemary 
twigs  and  that  we  shall  get  no  safety  by  leaning  on  them,  for  at  the 
least  breath  of  opposition  or  slander  they  break.  So  I  have  learned 
by  experience  that  the  true  way  not  to  fall  is  to  cling  to  the  Cross 
and  trust  in  Him  Who  hung  upon  it.  I  find  Him  a  true  Friend 
and  in  consequence  I  find  myself  endowed  with  such  power2 
that,  if  the  whole  world  were  against  me,  I  believe  I  could 
stand  up  to  it,  for  God  would  never  fail  me. 

Despite  my  clear  realization  of  this  truth,  I  used  to  be  very 
fond  of  being  liked  by  others.  Now  I  care  nothing  for  this — 
indeed,  in  some  ways,  I  seem  to  find  it  wearisome  except  when 
it  comes  from  those  with  whom  I  discuss  the  progress  of  my 
soul  or  from  those  whom  I  think  I  am  helping.  I  am  glad  to 
have  the  affection  of  the  former  class  so  that  they  may  bear 
with  me ;  and  that  of  the  latter  class  so  that  they  may  the  more 
readily  believe  me  when  I  tell  them  that  all  is  vanity. 

Amid  all  the  trouble  and  persecution  and .  opposition  which 
I  'have  been  suffering  during  these  months,3  God  has  given  me 
great  courage ;  and  the  greater  the  trouble,  the  greater  has  been 
the  courage:  I  have  been  unwearying  in  suffering.  And  when 
p'eople  have  spoken  ill  of  me,  not  only  have  I  borne  them  no 
grudge  but  I  think  I  have  conceived  a  new  love  for  them. 
I  do  not  know  how  this  has  happened:  it  has  indeed  been  a 
gift  to  me  from  the  hand  of  the  Lord. 

1  This  third  Relation,  which,  in  the  original,  is  separated  by  a  line  from  the  first 
two,  must  have  been  addressed  either  to  P.  Garcia  de  Toledo  or  to  P.  Bdfiez,  both 
of  whom  were  St.  Teresa's  confessors  in  the  year  1563. 

*  [The  word  rendered  "power"  is  senarfo,  "dominion"  (e.g.,  over  oneself).  I  have 
added  "in  consequence"  in* an  attempt  to  bring  out  the  emphasis  of  "Hallole  .  .  .y 
hallome",  which  would  perhaps  be  better  rendered:  "Him  I  find  .  .  .  and  myself 
I  find"  were  not  such  a  literary  turn  of  phrase  somewhat  discordant  with  St.  Teresa's 
style.] 

8  She  is  referring  here  to  the  events  connected  with  the  foundation  of  St.  Joseph's 
Avila. 


Ill-]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  317 

My  own  temperament  is  such  that,  when  I  desire  anything, 
I  do  so  with  impetuosity.  But  now  my  desires  make  themselves 
felt  so  quietly  that  I  am  not  even  sure  I  am  pleased  when  I 
find  them  fulfilled.  Except  in  matters  concerning  prayer,  I  take 
both  my  pleasures  and  my  griefs  so  mildly  that  I  am  like  a 
witless  person  and  I  remain  so  for  days  on  end. 

The  impulses  to  perform  penances,  which  have  been  coining 
to  me  from  time  to  time,  and  still  do  so,  are  violent  ones,  and 
any  penance  I  may  do  I  feel  to  be  so  slight  by  comparison  with 
my  great  desires  that  sometimes — almost  always,  indeed — I  think 
it  to  be  a  special  delight,  though,  on  account  of  my  ill-health, 
the  penances  I  perform  are  but  few. 

It  often  causes  me  the  greatest  distress,  which  just  now  is 
worse  than  usual,  to  be  obliged  to  take  food,  especially  when 
I  am  engaged  in  prayer.  The  distress  must  indeed  be  great, 
for  it  makes  me  shed  floods  of  tears  and-  utter  expressions  of 
affliction,  almost  without  knowing  I  am  doing  so,  and  I  am 
not  in  the  habit  of  behaving  thus.  During  the  very  sorest  trials 
that  I  have  suffered  in  this  life,  I  do  not  recall  having  uttered 
such  expressions,  for  I  am  not  in  the  least  like  a  woman  in  these 
matters  but  have  a  stout  heart. 

I  am  conscious  of  the  strongest  inward  desire — an  exceptionally 
strong  one — for  God  to  have  persons,  and  in  particular  learned 
men,  who  will  serve  Him  with  complete  detachment  and  will 
not  allow  earthly  considerations — which,  as  I  see  it,  are  all 
mockery — to  hold  them  back  from  so  doing.  When  I  look  at 
the  great  needs  of  the  Church,  which  afflict  me  so  much,  it 
seems  to  me  ridiculous  to  be  distressed  about  anything  else.  So 
I  do  nothing  but  commend  such  persons  to  God,  for  I  know 
that  one  such,  if  completely  perfect  and  filled  with  the  true 
fervour  which  comes  from  the  love  of  God,  would  be  of  greater 
service  to  Him  than  many  who  were  merely  lukewarm. 

In  matters  of  faith  I  think  I  am  much  stronger  than  I  used 
to  be.  I  believe  I  could  go  out  all  alone  to  meet  the  Lutherans 
and  show  them  their  errors.  The  loss  of  so  many  souls  is  a  great 
grief  to  me.  But  I  also  see  many  making  progress,  and  I  recognize 
clearly  that  it  is  God's  will  that  this  should  come  about  through 
my  agency;  and  I  find  that  through  His  goodness  my  soul  grows 
more  and  more  in  love  of  Him  day  by  day. 

I  do  not  think  that,  even  if  I  studied  how  to  be  vainglorious, 
I  could  succeed,  nor  do  I  see  how  I  could  possibly  think  that 
any  of  the  virtues  I  possess  is  mine,  for  it  is  not  long  since  I 
realized  that  for  years  on  end  I  had  non^  at  all;  and  even  now 
I  do  nothing  myself  but  receive  favours,  without  rendering  any 
service  for  them,  and  thus  I  become  the  most  unprofitable 


3i8  SPIRITUAL   RELATIONS  [III 

creature  in  the  world.  And  so  I  sometimes  wonder  how  it  is 
that  everyone  except  myself  makes  progress  and  that  I  am  good 
for  nothing  whatsoever.  This,  of  course,  is  not  humility,  but  the 
simple  truth.  When  I  realize  how  unprofitable  I  am,  I  sometimes 
become  afraid  and  wonder  if  I  am  not  being  deluded,  I  see 
clearly  that  all  I  gain  comes  to  me  through  these  revelations  and 
raptures:  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  me;  I  am  no  more  than  a 
tabula  rasa.  This  reassures  me  and  makes  me  calmer:  I  throw 
myself  into  the  arms  of  God,  and  trust  my  desires,  for  these, 
I  know,  are  to  die  for  Him,  and  to  renounce  all  repose,  come 
what  may. 

There  are  days  when,  times  without  number,  I  remember  what 
Saint  Paul  says* — though  his  words  are  certainly  not  true  of 
me — and  think  that  it  is  not  I  who  live,  or  speak,  or  cherish 
desires,  but  that  I  am  being  directed  and  given  strength  by 
One  Who  is  within  me.  And  I  am  living,  as  it  were,  almost 
entirely  outside  myself,  so  that  life  causes  me  the  greatest  dis- 
tress. And  the  chief  offering  I  make  to  God,  as  a  great  service 
to  Him,  is  that,  grievous  as  it  is  for  me  to  be  parted  from  Him, 
for  love  of  Him  I  still  desire  to  live.  I  should  like  my  life  to 
be  full  of  sore  trials  and  persecutions;  since  I  cannot  make 
progress  I  should  at  least  like  to  be  able  to  suffer;  and  I  would 
endure  all  the  trials  in  the  world  to  gain  the  very  smallest  addi- 
tional degree  of  merit — I  mean,  through  a  more  complete  ful- 
filment of  His  will. 

There  is  nothing  I  have  learned  in  prayer  of  which  I  have 
not  seen  the  fulfilment,  though  this  may  not  have  taken  place 
till  two  years  later.  I  see  so  many  things  and  understand  so 
much  of  the  wonders  of  God  and  of  the  way  He  has  brought 
them  to  pass,  that  almost  always  when  I  begin  to  think  of  this 
my  understanding  fails  and  I  become  recollected,  like  one  who 
sees  things  far  exceeding  his  powers  of  comprehension. 

So  often  does  God  keep  me  from  offending  Him  that  some- 
times I  am  really  astonished.  I  think  I  realize  what  great  care 
He  takes  of  me,  without  any  effort  on  my  part,  for  before  these 
things  happened  I  was  an  ocean  of  sin  and  evil  and  had  no 
idea  that  I  was  sufficiently  mistress  of  myself  to  refrain  from 
doing  wrong.  And  the  reason  why  I  should  like  these  facts  to 
be  known  is  that  they  will  show  forth  the  great  power  of  God. 
May  He  be  praised  for  ever  and  ever.  Amen. 

1  Galatians  ii,  20. 


Ill]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  319 


JESUS 

This  Relation  is  not  in  my  own  hand  as  it  is  at  the  beginning,1 
because  I  gave  it  to  my  confessor,,2  and  he  copied  it  in  his  own 
writing  without  adding  to  it,  or  subtracting  from  it.  He  was 
a  very  spiritual  man  and  a  theologian.,  with  whom  I  discussed 
everything  that  concerned  my  soul,  and  he  discussed  it  all  with 
other  learned  men,  among  whom  was  Father  Mancio.8  They 
have  found  nothing  which  is  not  in  conformity  with  Holy  Scrip- 
ture. This  has  given  me  complete  peace  of  mind,  though,  while 
God  is  leading  me  by  this  road,  1  know  I  must  not  trust  myself 
in  any  way.  This  has  always  been  my  rule,  though  it  causes 
me  great  distress.  Your  Reverence  will  see  to  it  that  all  this 
goes  under  the  seal  of  confession,  as  I  have  already  begged  you. 


RELATION  IV 

From  Seville )  in  the  year  1576* 
JESUS 

It  is  forty  years  since  this  nun  took  the  habit,5  and  from  the 
first  she  began  to  meditate  on  the  Passion  of  Our  Lord,  using  the 
Mysteries  for  that  purpose,  and  also  upon  her  own  sins.  She 
used  never  to  meditate  upon  anything  supernatural,  but  upon 
the  creatures  and  other  subjects  which  made  her  realize  how  soon 
everything  comes  to  an  end.  'On  these  themes  she  would  meditate 
several  times  each  day,  and  the  idea  never  occurred  to  her  of 
wanting  to  do  anything  further,  for  she  knew  herself  to  be  so 
wicked  that  she  did  not  deserve  to  think  of  God  at  all.  This 
procedure  she  followed  for  some  twenty-two  years,6  suffering 
greatly  from  aridity;  she  also  read  good  books.  It  must  be  some 

1  [Cf.  the  opening  words  of  this  Relation,  p.  316, 1.  i,  above.] 

2  P.  Ibdnez. 

8  [Cf  p.  301,  above.]  P.  Mancio  was  a  celebrated  theologian  of  the  Order  of  St. 
Dominic  who  held  professorships  at  the  Universities  of  Alcali  de  Henares  and 
Salamanca,  and  died,  at  the  age  of  about  seventy,  m  1566. 

4  P.  Rodrigo  Alvarez  (1522-1587),  for  whom  St.  Teresa  wrote  this  Relation,  was  a 
Jesuit  and  a  Censor  of  the  Holy  Office,  who  helped  her  a  great  deal  in  the  many 
difficulties  which  she  encountered  when  making  her  foundation  at  Seville,  \founda- 
ttont,  Chap.  XXV:  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  129  ff.,  below]. 

5  [Cf.  p.  20,  n.  2,  above], 

ft  [I.e.,  till  1558.  See  p.  xxvu,  above]. 


320  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS 

eighteen  years  ago  that  discussions  began  about  the  foundation 
in  Avila  of  the  first  convent  for  Discalced  nuns.  About  three 
years  previously,  she  had  begun  to  think  she  was  sometimes  being 
addressed  by  interior  voices  and  to  see  certain  visions  and  ex- 
perience revelations.  She  saw  nothing,  nor  has  she  ever  seen 
anything,  with  her  bodily  eyes,  but  a  picture  would  come  to  her 
as  if  in  a  lightning-flash;  and  so  deeply  would  the  impression  of 
it  remain  with  her,  and  such  effects  would  it  produce,  that  it 
was  as  clear  as  if  she  had  seen  it  with  her  bodily  eyes,  or  even 
more  so.  She  was  a  very  timorous  person,  and  afraid  sometimes 
to  be  alone,  even  by  day.  And  as  she  could  not  avoid  seeing 
these  visions,  however  hard  she  tried,  she  would  be  most  distressed 
by  them,,  fearing  they  might  be  a  delusion  of  the  devil.  She  began 
to  discuss  them  with  spiritual  persons  of  the  Company  of  Jesus, 
among  whom  were  the  Society's  Commissary,  Father  Araoz, 
who  happened  to  come  to  Avila;1  Father  Francis,  who  was 
Duke  of  Gandia,  and  whom  she  consulted  twice;2  a  Provincial 
of  the  Company,  now  in  Rome,  one  of  the  four  Spanish  provin- 
cials, Gil  Gonzalez;3  the  present  Provincial  of  Castile,  though 
him  she  consulted  less  frequently;4  Baltasar  Alvarez,  now  Rector 
at  Salamanca,  who  for  six  years  was  her  confessor;5  Salazar, 
Rector  at  Cuenca;6  less  often,  Santander,  Rector  at  Segovia;7 
the  Rector  at  Burgos,  a  man  called  Ripalda,  who  thought  very 
ill  of  her  till  he  got  to  know  her;8  Doctor  Pablo  Hernandez,  of 
Toledo,  who  was  a  Consultor  of 'the  Inquisition;9  and  one 
Ordonez,  Rector  at  Avila,  who  was  in  the  locality.10  So  she 

1  Antonio  Araoz  (1516-1573),  a  relative  of  St.  Ignatius,  was  one  of  the  first  Fathers 
of  the  Society  of  Jesus  and  its  Commissary-General  from  1562  to  1565. 
*On  St*  Francis  Borgia  and  St.  Teresa,  see  p.  154,  above. 

3  P.  Gonzalez  (1532-1596),  a  man  of  great  influence  in  the  Society,  was  in  touch 
with  St.  Teresa  for  twelve  years,  though  most  closely  between  1571  and  1574,  when 
she  was  Prioress  of  the  Incarnation.  [I  take  the  Spanish  phrase  (un  provincial .  .     de 
los  cuatro)  to  mean  either  what  I  have  written  in  the  text  or  "one  of  the  four  assistants 
to  the  Jesuit  General"*  It  is  not  very  clear,  but  no  edition  of  the  Relations,  and  none 
of  several  Jesuit  correspondents,  can  suggest  any  better  interpretation  ] 

4  P.  Juan  Suarez  (1525-1595),  whom  St  Teresa  met  when  making  her  Valladohd 
foundation  in  1568. 

5  Cf.  pp.  155,  185,  above. 

8  P.  Caspar  de  Salazar.  Cf.  Life,  Ghap  XXXIII,  [p.  227,  above], 

7  P.  Luis  de  Santander,  whom  St.  Teresa  met  at  Segovia  in  1574  when  making 
her  foundation  there. 

8  This  is  P.  Jerommo  Ripalda  (1535-1618),  the  author  of  the  famous  Spanish 
catechism  always  known  by  his  name.    St.  Teresa  met  him  in  Avila  and  later  saw 
more  of  him  when  making  her  Salamanca  foundation.   Here  he  was  her  confessor. 
It  was  he  who  encouraged  her  to  go  on  with  her  Foundations. 

9  P.  Hernandez  joined  the  Society's  Toledo  house  in  1568  and  helped  St.  Teresa 
with  the  foundation  which  she  made  at  Toledo  in  the  following  year.   Writing  to 
P.  Gracisin  in  1578,  she  describes  P.  Hernandez  as  "my  good  friend". 

10  The  intimacy  of  the  Saint's  spiritual  relations  with  P.  Ordonez  may  be  gathered 
from  the  letter  which  she  wrote  him  in  1573  when  Prioress  of  the  Incarnation 


IV]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  321 

managed  to  consult  those  of  the  Fathers  who  were  the  most 
highly  esteemed.1 

With  Fray  Peter  of  Alcantara  she  had  a  great  deal  to  do 2 
and  he  did  a  great  deal  to  help  her.  During  this  period  they 
spent  more  than  six  years  in  thoroughly  testing  her,  and  this 
caused  her  many  tears  and  much  affliction.  The  more  they 
tested  her,  the  more  of  these  experiences  she  had,  and  both  in 
prayer  and  apart  from  it  her  faculties  were  often  suspended. 
Very  many  prayers  were  offered,  and  Masses  were  said,  to  the 
end  that  God  might  lead  her  by  another  road,  for  when  not 
in  prayer  she  would  be  terribly  afraid,  although  in  everything 
pertaining  to  the  service  of  God  she  knew  she  had  notably  im- 
proved. She  was  neither  vainglorious  nor  proud:  on  the  contrary, 
she  was  ashamed  that  people  should  know  what  had  happened 
to  her.  It  distressed  her  more  to  speak  of  it  than  if  it  had  been 
sin,  for  she  thought  people  would  laugh  at  her  and  say  that 
these  were  things  invented  by  silly  women. 

It  must  have  been  about  thirteen  years  or  so  ago  that  the 
Bishop  of  Salamanca,3  who  was  an  Inquisitor  (in  Toledo,  I 
think:  he  had  previously  held  that  office  at  Seville),  came  to 
Avila.  In  order  to  reassure  herself  she  managed  to  have  a  talk 
with  him  and  gave  him  a  full  account  of  everything.  He  told 
her  that  there  was  nothing  in  all  she  had  said  which  had  to  do 
with  his  office,  because  all  that  she  saw  and  heard  only  confirmed 
her  more  in  the  Catholic  Faith,  which  she  holds  finnly,  as  she 
has  always  done,  having  such  exceedingly  fervent  desires  for  the 
honour  of  God  and  the  good  of  souls  that  she  would  go  to  her 
death  again  and  again  for  a  single  one  of  them.  Seeing  that  she 
was  so  much  distressed,  he  told  her  to  send  to  Master  Avila, 
who  was  then  still  living,4  a  full  written  account  of  the  whole 
matter,  for  he  was  a  man  deeply  versed  in  everything  relating 
to  prayer,  and  she  could  rest  content  with  whatever  he  might 
write  to  her  in  reply.  This  she  did  and  he  replied  giving  her 
complete  reassurance.  JHer  account  was  such  that  all  the  learned 
men  who  have  seen  it,  who  were  my  confessors,6  said  that  it 
would  be  of  great  benefit  to  those  who  needed  advice  on  spiritual 
matters,  and  they  therefore  ordered  her  to  make  a  copy  of  it 

1  Among  others  not  mentioned  here  she  had  to  do  with  P.  Domenech  at  Toledo, 
P.  Enrique  Henriquez  at  Seville,  and  PP.  Bartolom6  Perez  Nueros,  Juan  del  Aguila, 
Gonzalo  Divila,  Diego  de  Getina  and  (cf.  p.  151,  above)  the  venerable  P.  Juan  de 
Pradanos. 

2Cf.  pp.  171,  176-8,  104-7,  above. 

3  Don  Francisco  Soto  de  Salazar,  Canon  of  Avila,  Inquisitor  at  Cordoba,  Seville 
md  Toledo  and  Bishop  of  Albarracfn,  Segorbe  and  Salamanca. 

4  [Juan  de  Avila.   Cf.  p.  299,  above.  He  died  in  1569.] 
8  [The  change  of  person  is  St.  Teresa's], 


322  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [IV 

and  to  write  another  little  book1  for  her  daughters  (she  was 
prioress)  so  as  to  give  them  advice  of  this  kind.  Yet  in  spite 
of  all  this  she  was  sometimes  not  without  fears,  thinking  that 
spiritual  people  could  as  easily  be  deceived  as  she  herself.  She 
wanted,  therefore,  to  discuss  the  subject  with  learned  men  of 
note,  even  if  they  were  not  greatly  given  to  prayer,  for  she  only 
wanted  to  know  if  all  she  had  experienced  was  in  conformity 
with  Holy  Scripture.  Occasionally  she  found  comfort  in  thinking 
that,  although  for  her  sins  she  might  deserve  to  be  deceived, 
God  would  not  allow  so  many  good  men,  who  were  anxious 
to  give  her  light,  to  be  deceived  as  well. 

With  this  end  in  view  she  began  to  discuss  these  subjects  with 
Fathers  of  the  Order  of  Saint  Dominic,  to  whom,  before  having 
these  experiences,  she  had  often  made  her  confessions.  She 
discussed  them  with  the  following  Fathers.  Fray  Vicente  Barron, 
a  Consultor  of  the  Inquisition  and  a  very  learned  man,  was 
her  confessor  at  Toledo  for  eighteen  months  when  she  went  to 
make  a  foundation  there2.  He  reassured  her  a  great  deal  and 
they  all  asked  her  what  she  had  to  fear  if  she  refrained  from 
offending  "God  and  recognized  her  own  unworthiness.  The 
Master  Fray  Domingo  Banes3,  now  Consultor  of  the  Holy  Office 
at  Valladolid,  was  my  confessor  for  six  years  and  whenever  I 
have  had  any  new  experience  I  always  correspond  with  him 
still.  Then  there  was  Master  Chaves4  and  with  him  Fray  Pedro 
Ibaiiez, 5  at  that  time  Lector  at  Avila  and  an  extremely  learned 
man,  and  another  Dominican  named  Fray  Garcia  de  Toledo.6 
She  also  consulted  Father-Master  Fray  Bartolome  de  Medina,7 
a  professor  at  Salamanca,  who,  she  knew,  disapproved  of  her, 
having  heard  of  the  things  she  had  done.  She  thought  that  he 
would  be  more  likely  than  anyone  else  to  tell  her  if  she  was  being 
deluded.  This  was  a  little  more  than  two  years  ago.  She  managed 
to  make  her  confession  to  him,  and,  while  with  him,  gave  him 
a  full  account  of  everything  and  arranged  for  him  to  see  what 
she  had  written  so  that  he  might  have  a  better  understanding 
of  her  life.  He  reassured  her  as  confidently  as  all  the  rest,  or 

1  This  '"  little  book"  was  the  Way  of  perfection. 

z  On  P.  Barron,  see  pp.  27,  117  above.  The  Toledo  period  would  be  from  about 
March  1569  to  August  1570  [not  "por  los  anos  de  1568  y  siguientes",  as  P.  Silverio  puts 
it] 

8  Gf.  p.  254,  above. 

4  A  celebrated  Dominican  theologian,  confessor  to  Philip  II,  whose  prestige  at 
Court  was  of  great  help  to  the  Discalced  Carmelite  Reformers.   He  first  made  St. 
Teresa's  acquaintance  when  Rector  of  the  College  of  St.  Thomas,  Avila. 

5  Cf.  pp.  222,  238,  244,  above. 

6  Cf.  pp.  139,  234  above. 

7  This  Dominican  acted  as  St.  Teresa's  confessor  in  1574  when  she  "was  at  Alba  de 
Tonnes  and  went  every  week  to  Salamanca'to  see  him.  This  fact,  no  doubt,  explains 
her  use  of  the  word  "managed"  in  the  text  above* 


xvj  oruxi i  U/VL.    JVDJU/\JLiwrND 

even  more  so,  and  became  her  very  close  friend.  She  also  made 
her  confession  for  some  time  to  Father-Master  Fray  Felipe  de 
Meneses,  who  was  at  Valladolid  when  she  went  there  to  mate 
a  foundation,  as  Prior  or  Rector  of  the  College  of  Saint  Gregory.1 
He  had  already  heard  of  her  experiences,  and,  in  the  kindness 
of  his  heart,  had  gone  to  Avila  to  have  a  talk  with  her,  for  he 
wanted  to  know  if  she  was  suffering  from  delusions  and  if  people 
were  not  right  in  speaking  so  ill  of  her:  and  what  she  had  said 
had  completely  satisfied  him.  She  also  had  some  private  con- 
versations with  a  Provincial  of  the  Order  of  Saint  Dominic, 
named  Salinas,2  a  very  spiritual  man  and  a  great  servant  of  God, 
and  with  another  Lector,  now  at  Segovia,  an  extremely  shrewd 
man,  called  Fray  Diego  de  Yanguas.3 

There  are  a  few  others  to  whom,  over  this  long  period  of  years, 
she  has  had  an  opportunity  of  venturing  to  speak,  especially  as 
she  used  to  go  to  a  great  many  places  when  making  foundations. 
So  anxious  have  they  all  been  to  give  her  light  that  they  have 
tested  her  in  a  great  many  ways,  and  by  doing  so  they  have 
reassured  both  her  and  themselves.  She  was  always  submissive, 
and  still  is,  to  all  that  is  taught  by  the  Holy  Catholic  Faith,  and 
her  one  prayer,  and  the  prayer  of  the  houses  she  has  founded, 
is  that  it  may  prosper.  She  used  to  say  that,  if  any  of  these  things 
led  her  into  opposition  to  the  Catholic  Faith  and  the  law  of  God, 
she  would  not  need  to  go  in  search  of  proofs,  for  she  would 
know  at,  once  that  they  came  from  the  devil. 

She  never  took  any  action  as  a  result  of  what  she  learned  in 
prayer;  in  fact,  if  her  confessors  told  her  to  act  contrarily,  she 
obeyed  them  at  once,  and  she  always  told  them  everything. 
However  confidently  they  assured  her  that  God  was  at  work 
within  her,  she  never  beUeved  it  so  resolutely  as  to  be  able  to 
swear  to  it,  though  from  the  effects  produced  and  the  great 
favours  wrought  in  her  she  judged  that  some  of  these  things 
must  have  been  caused  by  a  good  spirit.  But  she  always  desired 
virtues,  and  on  this  she  has  always  insisted  when  talking  to  her 
nuns,  telling  them  that  she  who  is  the  most  humble  and  mortified 
will  be  the  most  spiritual. 

This  that  she  has  written  she  gave  to  Father-Master  Fray 
Domingo  Banes,  who  lives  in  Valladolid,  for  it  is  with  him  that 

1  She  was  at  Valladolid  from  August  15,  1568,  to  February  ai,  1569.  P.  Meneses, 
whose  office  at  St.  Gregory's  was  that  of  Regent,  died  in  1572. 

*Juan  de  Salinas,  for  many  years  Provincial  of  his  Order,  made  the  acquaintance 
of  St.  Teresa  while  she  was  at  Toledo.  He  died  in  1569. 

a  Fray  Diego  Yanguas,  famed  for  his  lectures  on  the  Summa,  was  St.  Teresa's  con- 
fessor when  she  was  making  her  Segovia  foundation  in  March-September  1574. 
Later  he  took  part,  with  P.  Gracian,  in  the  examination  of  a  number  of  the  Saint's 
writings,  including  the  Intenor  Castle.  [A  Lector,  it  should  be  added,  is  the  name  given 
in  certain  religious  Orders  to  a  teacher  of  theology  or  philosophy.] 


324  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [IV 

she  has  held,  and  still  holds,  the  most  frequent  communication. 
She  believes  that  he  will  have  sent  her  writings  to  the  Holy 
Office  in  Madrid.1  All  that  she  has  written  she  submits  to  the 
correction  of  the  Catholic  Faith  and  of  the  Church.  Nobody 
has  censured  her  for  her  writings,  for  these  are  things  which 
are  in  nobody's  power  and  Our  Lord  does  not  ask  what  is 
impossible. 

As  her  great  fear  has  led  her  to  tell  so  many  people  about  these 
things,  they  have  become  very  widely  known,  which  has  been 
the  most  grievous  torment  and  cross  to  her.  She  says  that  this 
is  not  a  result  of  humility  but  because  she  has  always  abhorred 
what  people  call  "talking  like  women".  She  took  extremely 
great  care  not  to  submit  herself  to  anyone  who  she  thought 
would  believe  these  things  to  be  wholly  of  God,  for  she  at  once 
began  to  fear  that,  if  she  did,  the  devil  would  deceive  them 
both.  When  she  saw  that  any  one  of  her  directors  had  misgivings 
about  her,  she  spoke  to  him  about  her  soul  the  more  readily, 
although  it  also  distressed  her  when  some,  in  order  to  prove  her, 
treated  her  experiences  with  scorn.  For  some  of  these,  she 
believed,  certainly  came  from  God;  and  she  was  no  more  pleased 
when  people  condemned  them  out  of  hand  without  understanding 
them  than  when  they  believed  them  to  be  wholly  of  God.  She 
herself  fully  realized  that  there  might  be  delusion  in  them,  for 
which  reason  she  never  felt  completely  confident  about/a  matter 
in  which  there  might  be  danger.  She  tried  her  hardest  never 
to  offend  God  and  always  to  obey;  and  by  observing  these  two 
principles  she  thought  she  would  keep  herself  free  from  harm, 
even  if  her  experiences  came  from  the  devil. 

Invariably,  since  first  she  had  supernatural  visitations,  her 
spirit  has  been  inclined  to  seek  after  what  is  the  most  perfect 
and  she  had  almost  always  great  desires  to  suffer.  In  the  perse- 
cutions she  had  to  bear,  which  were  numerous,  she  found  com- 
fort, and  she  had  a  particular  love  for  her  persecutors.  She  had 
a  great  desire  for  poverty  and  solitude,  for  escape  from  this 
exile  and  for  the  vision  of  God.  Through  these  effects,  and  others 
like  them,  she  began  to  find  peace,  for  she  thought  that  a  spirit 
which  left  her  with  these  virtues  could  not  be  a  bad  one,  and 
those  with  whom  she  discussed  the  matter  said  the  same  thing. 
Yet  it  was  not  that  she  ceased  to  fear  but  merely  that  she  was 
less  troubled.  Her  spirit  would  impel  her  never  to  conceal  any- 
thing but  always  to  obey.  She  never  saw  anything  with  her 
bodily  eyes,  as  has  been  said,  but  always  in  such  a  subtle,  in- 
tellectual way  that  at  first  she  would  sometimes  think  she  had 
imagined  it,  though  at  other  times  she  could  not  think  so.  Nor 

*  a  Cf.  p.  226,  above. 


IV]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  325 

did  she  ever  hear  anything  with  her  bodily  ears,  except  on  two 
occasions,  and  on  these  occasions  she  could  make  nothing  of 
what  was  said  and  did  not  know  what  it  was  all  about. 

These  things  were  not  continuous,  but  came  to  her  occasionally 
at  times  when  she  was  in  need.  Once,  for  example,  she  suffered 
for  some  days  from  intolerable  interior  torments  and  an  interior 
disquiet  which  arose  out  of  the  fear  that  she  was  being  deceived 
by  the  devil,  as  she  has  explained  at  greater  length  in  her  account 
of  it.  In  this  account  she  describes  her  sins,  which  have  thus, 
like  these  other  things,  been  made  public,  for  the  fear  she  was  in 
made  her  forget  her  reputation.1  And  when  she  was  suffering 
this  indescribable  affliction,  she  heard  within  her  these  simple 
words:  "It  is  I;  be  not  afraid";  and  her  soul  became  so  quiet 
and  courageous  and  confident  that  she  could  not  think  whence 
this  great  blessing  had  come;  for  neither  her  confessor,  nor  all 
these  learned  men  with  all  their  talk,  had  been  able  to  inspire 
her  with  peace  and  quiet  as  these  few  words  had  done.  On  other 
occasions,  too,  visions  had  given  her  fortitude :  without  their  aid  she 
could  never  have  endured  such  an  inestimable  amount  of  trouble, 
opposition  and  illness  as  she  has  had  to  bear,  and  has  to  bear  still, 
for  she  is  never  without  some  kind  of  suffering.  She  has  her  ups 
and  downs,  but  it  is  a  normal  thing  with  her  to  be  in  continual 
pain,  as  well  as  to  have  to  endure  many  other  ailments,  though 
since  she  has  been  a  nun  these  have  been  more  troublesome. 

If  she  is  doing  anything  to  serve  the  Lord,  the  favours  which 
He  grants  her  quickly  pass  from  -her  memory,  though  she  often 
thinks  of  those  favours.  But  she  is  unable  to  dwell  on  them  a  great 
deal,  as  she  does  on  her  sins,  which  are  continually  tormenting 
her  and  are  like  an  evil-smelling  mire.  It  must  be  because  of 
the  number  of  her  sins  and  the  slightness  of  the  services  that  she 
has  rendered  to  God  that  she  is  not  tempted  to  vainglory.  None, 
of  her  spiritual  experiences  was  ever  influenced  by  others,  nor 
was  anything  but  wholly  pure  and  clean;  and  above  all  she  has 
a  great  anxiety  not  to  offend  God  Our  £ord  and  to  do  His  will  in 
all  things.  She  beseeches  Him  continually  for  this  grace  and  she 
believes  herself  to  be  so  determined  not  to  do  otherwise  that  there 
is  nothing  that  her  confessors  and  superiors  could  tell  hereto  do 
which,  if  she  thought  it  was  for  the  greater  service  of  God,  she 
would  fail  to  perform,  confident  that  the  Lord  helps  those  who 
resolve  to  work  in  His  service  and  for  His  glory. 

To  the  best  of  her  own  and  of  her  confessors'  belief,  she  thinks 
no  more  of  herself,  or  of  her  own  advantage,  by  comparison  with 
the  service  and  glory  of  God,  than  if  she  did  not  exist.  All  that  is 
written  in  this  paper  is  the  absolute  truth,  and  Your  Reverence 

1  [Crtdito.] 


326  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [IV 

can  prove  this,  if  yon  wish,  by  consulting  her  confessors,  and  also 
all  the  people  who  have  had  to  do  with  her  for  the  last  twenty 
years.  Very  frequently  her  spirit  moves  her  to  the  praises  of  God 
and  she  could  wish  the  whole  world  were  occupied  in  praising 
Him,  at  however  great  cost  to  herself.  Hence  comes  her  desire 
for  the  good  of  souls;  seeing  how  foul  are  the  outward  things  of 
this  world,  and  how  precious  beyond  comparison  are  inward 
things,  she  has  come  to  esteem  the  things  of  the  world  but  little. 
The  kind  of  vision  about  which  Your  Reverence  asked  me  is  as 
follows.  She  sees  nothing,  either  inwardly  or  outwardly,  for  the 
vision  is  not  imaginary.  Yet,  without  seeing  anything,  the  soul 
understands  what  it  is,  and  it  is  pictured  to  her  more  clearly 
than  if  she  were  to  see  it,  save  that  no  exact  picture  is  presented 
to  her.  It  is  as  if  a  person  were  to  feel  that  another  is  close  beside 
her;  and  though,  because  of  the  darkness,  he  cannot  be  seen,  she 
knows  for  certain  that  he  is  there.  This,  however,  is  not  an  exact 
comparison,  for  the  person  who  is  in  the  dark  knows  that  the 
other  is  there,  if  not  already  aware  of  the  fact,  either  by  hearing  a 
sound  or  by  having  seen  him  there  previously.  But  in  this  case 
nothing  of  that  kind  happens:  though  not  a  word  can  be  heard, 
either  exteriorly  or  interiorly,  the  soul  knows  with  perfect  clearness 
who  is  there,  where  he  is  and  sometimes  what  is  signified  by  his 
presence.  Whence  he  comes,  and  how,  she  cannot  tell,  but  so  it  is, 
and  for  as  long  as  it  lasts  she  cannot  cease  to  be  aware  of  the  fact. 
When  the  vision  leaves  her,  she  cannot  recall  it  to  the  imagination, 
however  much  she  may  wish  to  do  so;  for  clearly,  if  she  could,  it 
would  be  a  case  of  imagination  and  not  of  actual  presence,  to  re- 
capture which  is  not  in  her  power;  and  so  it  is  with  all  supernatural 
matters.  And  it  is  for  this  reason  that  the  person  to  whom  God 
grants  this  favour  has  no  esteem  forN  himself.  He  sees  that  it  is  a 
free  gift  and  that  he  can  neither  add  to  it  nor  subtract  from  it, 
and  thus  he  becomes  much  humbler  than  before  and  longs  much 
more  to  render  continual  service  to  this  Almighty  Lord,  Who 
can  do  what  we  on  earth  cannot  even  understand,  for  there  are 
things  to  a  knowledge  of  which  no  man,  however  learned,  can 
attain.  Blessed  for  ever  and  ever  be  He  Who  bestows  this  gift! 
Amen. 


V]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  327 

RELATION  V 

From  Seville,  in  the  year  1576 x 
JESUS 

These  interior  things  of  the  spirit  are  so  hard  to  describe,  and 
still  more  so  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  understood,  especially  as  they 
are  so  quickly  gone,  that  if  they  do  not  explain  themselves  by 
virtue  of  the  obedience  under  which  I  am  writing  I  shall  be  lucky 
if  I  am  able  to  explain  them  myself,  particularly  the  most  difficult 
of  them.2  It  matters  little,  however,  if  I  succeed  or  not,  as  what  I 
write  is  going  into  the  hands  of  those  who  know  me  better  than  I 
know  myself.  In  all  I  say,  I  beg  Your  Reverence  to  understand  that 
I  do  not  mean  to  suggest  that  I  am  speaking  accurately,  for  it  may 
well  be  that  I  do  not  understand  what  I  am  talking  about.  What  I 
can  assure  you  of  is  that  I  shall  say  nothing  of  which  I  have  not 
had  either  occasional  or  frequent  experience.  Whether  it  be  good 
or  bad,  Your  Reverence  will  see  it  and  will  advise  me  accordingly. 
I  think  Your  Reverence  will  like  me  to  begin  by  discussing 
the  source  of  supernatural  experiences,  for  devotion,  tenderness, 
tears  and  meditations,  which  with  the  Lord's  help  we  can  acquire 
on  earth,  are  well  understood  already. 

The  first  kind  of  prayer  I  experienced  which  seems  to  me 
supernatural  I  should  describe  as  one  which,  despite  all  our 
efforts,  cannot  be  acquired  by  industry  or  diligence,  though 
we  can  certainly  prepare  for  it,  and  it  must  be  a  great  help  if  we 
do.  This  prayer  is  an  interior  recollection  felt  in  the  soul,  which 
seems  to  hava  acquired  new  senses,  corresponding  to  its  exterior 
senses,  and  appears  desirous  of  withdrawing  from  outward 
tumult.  Consequently  it  sometimes  carries  the  exterior  senses 
away  with  it,  being  anxious  to  close  its  eyes  so  that  it  may  neither 
hear  nor  see  nor  understand  anything  but  what  is  then  occupying 
it — namely,  the  possibility  of  converse  with  God  alone.  In  this 
state  there  is  no  loss  of  any  of  the  senses  or  faculties,  which  are  all 
folly  active:  but  their  activity  is  concentrated  upon  God.  This 
will  be  easily  understood  by  anyone  to  whom  Our  Lord  has 
granted  it,  but  anyone  else  cannot  fail  to  need  a  great  many  words 
and  comparisons. 

1  This  Relation,  like  the  last,  is  addressed  to  P  Rodrigo  Alvarez,  but  in  his  capacity 
as  her  director,  not  in  his  office  as  Censor  to  the  Inquisition. 

2[Zi&:  "particularly  in  things  so  hard  (to  describe).'*  This  phrase  may  be  an 
unintentional  repetition  of  the  first  phrase  in  the  paragraph,  or  it  may  be  (as  I  think 
it  is)  an  attempt  to  say  what  stands  in  the  text.] 


328  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [V 

From  this  recollection  there  sometimes  springs  an  interior 
peace  and  quietude  which  is  full  of  happiness,  for  the  soul  is  in 
such  a  state  that  it  thinks  there  is  nothing  that  it  lacks.  Even 
speaking — by  which  I  mean  vocal  prayer  and  meditation — wearies 
it:  it  would  like  to  do  nothing  but  love.  This  condition  lasts  for 
some  time,  and  may  even  last  for  long  periods. 

From  this  prayer  is  wont  to  proceed  what  is  called  a  sleep  of  the 
faculties:  these,  however,  are  not  so  completely  absorbed  or 
suspended  that  it  can  be  called  rapture.  Though  this  is  not 
complete  union,  the  soul  is  sometimes — often,  indeed — aware 
that  the  will  alone  is  in  union,  and  this  it  understands  very  clearly 
— I  mean,  it  seems  to  do  so.  The  will  is  wholly  concentrated  upon 
God,  and  the  soul  sees  that  it  has  not  the  power  to  engage  in  any 
other  occupation  or  activity;  but  its  other  two  faculties  are  free 
to  act  and  work  in  God's  service.  In  fact,  Martha  and  Mary  are 
going  about  together.  This  confused  me  so  much  that  I  asked 
Father  Francis1  if  it  could  be  a  delusion,  but  he  told  me  that  it 
often  happened. 

Where  there  is  union  of  all  the  faculties  the  position  is  quite 
different.  They  can  then  do  nothing,  for  the  understanding  is, 
as  it  were,  dazed.  The  love  of  the  wiU  is  stronger  than  the  under- 
standing, but  the  understanding  does  not  know  if  the  will  loves, 
or  what  it  is  doing,  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  able  to  speak  of  it.  As 
to  the  memory,  my  belief  is  that  the  soul  has  none,  and  cannot 
think  at  all;  the  senses  too,  in  my  opinion,  are  no  longer  awake, 
but  are,  as  it  were,  lost,  so  that  the  soul  may  be  more  fully  oc- 
cupied in  fruition.  But  they  are  lost  only  for  that  brief  space  of 
time,  which  is  soon  over.  From  the  wealth  of  humility,  and  of 
other  virtues  and  desires,  which  is  left  in  the  soul  it  may  be 
gathered  what  great  good  that  favour  has  brought  it.  But  it  is 
impossible  to  say  what  this  is,  for,  though  the  soul  attempts  to 
understand  it,  it  knows  no  way  of  either  understanding  or  des- 
cribing it.  This,  if  genuine,  is  in  my  opinion  the  greatest  favour 
which  Our  Lord  grants  us  on  this  spiritual  road,  or,  at  least, 
one  of  the  greatest. 

Raptures  and  suspension  of  the  faculties,  in  my  opinion,  are  one 
and  the  same  thing;  I  generally  describe  them  as  suspension, 
so  as  not  to  use  the  word  rapture,  which  frightens  people;  and 
as  a  matter  of  fact  this  union  which  has  been  described  may  also 
be  called  suspension.  The  difference  between  it  and  rapture 
is  that  rapture  lasts  longer  and  is  more  readily  perceptible  from 
without,  for  little  by  little  breathing  diminishes,  so  that  the  subject 
cannot  speak  or  open  the  eyes.  Though  this  same  thing  happens 
in  union,  in  rapture  the  operation  is  more  powerful,  for  when 
1  [St.  Francis  Borgia.  Gf.  p.  154,  above.] 


V]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  329 

the  rapture  is  deep  the  natural  warmth  vanishes3  I  know  not 
whither,  and  to  a  greater  or  a  lesser  extent  this  is  characteristic 
of  all  these  types  of  prayer.  When  the  rapture  is  deep,  as  I  say, 
the  hands  become  as  cold  as  ice  and  sometimes  remain  stretched 
out  as  though  they  were  made  of  wood.  The  body  remains 
standing  or  kneeling,  according  to  the  position  it  was  in  when  the 
rapture  came  on.  And  the  soul  is  so  deeply  absorbed  in  the  joy 
of  what  the  Lord  is  showing  it  that  it  seems  to  forget  to  animate  the 
body  and  goes  away  and  abandons  it.  If  the  rapture  lasts,  the 
nerves,  too,  are  affected. 

I  think  it  must  be  the  Lord's  will  that  in  rapture  the  soul  should 
have  a  clearer  understanding  of  what  it  is  enjoying  than  it  has 
in  union,  and  thus  during  a  rapture  it  is  very  usual  for  His  Majesty 
to  make  it  certain  revelations.  These  produce  great  effects  on  the 
soul,  which  becomes  forgetful  of  itself  and  desires  only  that  so  great 
a  God  and  Lord  may  be  known  and  praised.  In  my  opinion,  if  the 
rapture  comes  from  God,  the  soul  cannot  fail  to  have  a  clear 
realization  of  its  own  powerlessness,  and  of  its  miserable  ingratitude 
in  not  having  served  Him  Who,  out  of  His  sheer  goodness, 
is  granting  it  such  great  favours.  For  the  feelings  and  the 
sweetness  produced  in  it  are  so  excessive  by  comparison  with 
anything  on  earth  which  can  be  likened  to  them  that,  if  the 
memory  of  them  did  not  pass  away,  the  soul  would  always  feel  a 
loathing  for  worldly  pleasures.  So  it  comes  to  despise  everything 
that  has  to  do  with  the  world. 

The  difference  between  rapture  and  transport  is  that  in  rapture 
the  soul  gradually  dies  to  these  outward  things,  is  deprived  of  its 
senses  and  lives  to  God.  Transport  comes  through  a  sudden  light 
shed  by  His  Majesty  in  the  very  depth 'of  the  soul,  with  a  swiftness 
of  movement  which  seems  to  carry  away  the  higher  part  of  it  and 
to  separate  the  soul  from  the  body.  So  at  first  the  soul  needs 
courage  if  it  is^to  commit  itself  into  the  arms  of  the  Lord,  that  He 
may  bear  it  whither  He  will.  Until  His  Majesty  establishes  it  in 
peace  in  the  place  whither  He  is  pleased  to  bear  it — and  by  bearing 
it  I  mean  giving  it  a  knowledge  of  lofty  things — it  undoubtedly 
needs  at  first  to  be  quite  determined  to  die  for  Him,  for  the  poor 
soul  does  not  know — this,  I  repeat,  is  only  at  first — what  is  going 
to  happen  to  it.  The  virtues,  I  believe,  are  all  the  stronger  for  this, 
for  the  soul's  desires  grow,  and  with  them  its  knowledge  of  this 
great  God,  out  of  which  grow  its  fear  and  love  of  Him.  So,  then, 
He  takes  the  matter  out  of  our  hands,  and  being,  as  indeed  He  is, 
the  Lord  of  the  soul,  He  transports  it,  filling  it  with  a  deep  repent- 
ance at  having  offended  Him,  with  amazement  at  having  dared  to 
offend  so  great  a  Majesty,  and  with  the  deepest  of  yearnings  that 
none  may  offend  Him  and  all  may  praise  Him.  This,  I  think. 


330  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [V 

must  be  the  source  of  its  intense  desires  for  the  salvation  of  souls 
ancTits  longing  that  it  may  itself  have  a  part  in  this  and  that  God 
may  be  praised  as  He  deserves. 

The  flight  of  the  spirit  is  something  which  I  do  not  know  how  to 
describe — it  is  an  uprising  from  the  very  depth  of  the  soul.  I  can 
recall  only  this  comparison,  which  I  made  in  a  book  Your 
Reverence  knows  of,  and  which  explains  these  and  other  kinds 
of  prayer  at  great  length. l  But  my  memory  is  such  that  I  forget 
things  immediately.  It  seems  to  me  that  soul  and  spirit  are  one 
and  the  same  thing.  It  is  as  with  a  fire  which  is  large  and  has  been 
prepared  for  lighting.  The  soul  has  been  prepared  by  God,  and, 
like  the  fire,  blazes  up  quickly  and  sends  up  a  flame  which  soars 
high:  yet  this  is  just  as  much  fire  as  the  other  which  remains 
below — however  high  the  flame  rises,  the  fire  below  is  still  there. 
So  it  is  here,  with  the  soul:  there  seems  to  come  out  of  it  some- 
thing swift  and  subtle  which  rises  to  its  higher  part  and  goes 
whither  the  Lord  wills.  More  than  this  it  is  impossible  to  ex- 
plain: it  is  like  a  flight  and  I  know  nothing  else  with  which  to 
compare  it.  I  know  that  this  can  be  very  clearly  apprehended  and 
that  there  is  no  way  of  preventing  it. 

It  seems,  then,  that  this  little  bird  of  the  spirit  has  escaped  from 
the  misery  of  this  flesh  and  from  the  prison  of  this  body  and  that 
it  is  thus  the  better  able  to  busy  itself  with  the  work  given  it  by 
Jhe  Lord.  The  flight  of  the  spirit  is  something  so  subtle  and 
precious,  as  the  soul  understands  it,  that  when  it  occurs  there 
seems  to  be  no  possibility  of  delusion  or  any  such  thing.  It  was  at  a 
later  stage  that  fears  came,  for  the  recipient  of  these  favours  was 
so  wicked  that  she  thought  she  had  every  reason  to  fear.  Yet 
within  her  soul  there  was  *  still  a  certainty  and  a  security  which 
made  life  possible  for  her,  though  this  was  not  enough  to  stop  her 
from  doing  her  upmost  lest  she  should  become  deluded. 

Impulse  is  the  name  I  give  to  a  desire  which  sometimes  comes 
to  the  soul  without  (as  is  most  usually  the  case)  having  been 
preceded  by  prayer.  It  is  generally  caused  by  a  soul's  suddenly 
remembering  its  absence  from  God  or  some  word  to  that  effect 
which  it  has  heard.  Sometimes  this  remembrance  is  so  powerful 
and  so  strong  that  the  soul  seems  in  a  single  moment  to  have 
gone  out  of  its  mind.  It  is  like  someone  who  has  suddenly  been 
told  bad  news,  of  which  he  had  been  ignorant,  or  who  has  re- 
ceived some  great  surprise:  the  news  seems  to  have  deprived  him 
of  the  power  of  thought,  and  hence  of  self-consolation:  he  is  like 
one  in  a  dream.  So  it  is  here,  except  that  the  soul's  distress  arises 
from  a  cause  for  which  it  knows  it  would  be  well  worth  dying. 
The  fact  is  that  whatever  the  soul  then  understands  only  increases 

1  Life,  Chap.  XVII  (pp.  100-4,  above). 


VJ  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  331 

its  distress  and  it  is  the  Lord's  pleasure  that  its  whole  being  shall  get 
no  benefit  out  of  anything,  nor  remember  that  it  is  His  will  that 
it  should  live.  It  feels  itself  to  be  in  a  state  of  deep  loneliness  and 
total  abandonment,  such  as  cannot  be  described,  for  the  world 
and  all  worldly  things  cause  it  distress,  and  no  created  thing  can 
provide  it  with  companionship :  it  seeks  nothing  but  the  Creator, 
yet  sees  that  without  dying  it  is  impossible  for  it  to  have  Him, 
and,  as  it  must  not  kill  itself,  it  is  dying  for  death,  in  such  a  way 
that  there  really  is  a  risk  of  its  dying.  It  sees  itself  suspended 
between  Heaven  and  earth  and  has  no  idea  what  to  do.  And 
from  time  to  time  God  gives  it  knowledge  of  Himself,  that  it  may 
see  what  it  is  losing,  in  a  way  so  strange  as  to  be  indescribable. 
For  there  is  nothing  in  the  world — within  my  own  experience,  at 
least — to  equal  this :  though  it  may  last  no  more  than  half  an  hour, 
it  leaves  the  limbs  so  disjointed  and  the  bones  so  racked  that 
the  hands  have  not  power  enough  to  write:  it  also  produces 
grievous  pains. 

Nothing  of  this  is  felt  until  that  impulse  has  passed  away.  The 
subject  is  given  enough  to  do  by  the  consciousness  of  what  is 
happening  within  him:  even  were  he  being  severely  tortured  I 
do  not  think  he  would  feel  it.  He  is  in  possession  of  all  his  senses : 
he  can  speak — he  can  even  observe;  walk  about,  however,  he 
cannot,  for  the  sudden  assault  of  love  would  fling  him  to  the 
ground.  If  one  were  to  die  of  longing  for  this  experience,  it 
would  be  of  no  help,  for  it  will  not  come  except  when  God  be- 
stows it.  It  leaves  in  the  soul  the  most  striking  results  and  benefits. 
Some  learned  men  say  that  it  is  one  thing;  others,  that  it  is 
another;  but  no  one  condemns  it.  Master  Avila  wrote  to  me  that 
it  is  good,  *•  and  so  say  all.  The  soul  is  well  aware  that  it  is  a  great 
favour  from  the  Lord :  if  it  happened  often,  our  life  would  soon  be 
over. 

Ordinarily,  this  impulse  consists  in  a  desire  to  serve  God  which 
is  accompanied  by  great  tenderness  and  by  tears  of  yearning  to 
escape  from  this  exile.  But  as  the  soul  has  its  freedom,  and  con- 
siders that  it  is  the  Lord's  will  for  it  to  live,  it  finds  comfort  in  that 
thought  and  offers  Him  its  life,  beseeching  Him  that  it  may  be 
lived  only  for  His  glory.  Having  done  this,  it  finds  life  tolerable. 

Another  very  usual  kind  of  prayer  consists  in  a  wounding  of 
the  soul,  as  if  an  arrow  had  pierced  the  heart,  or  the  soul  itself. 
This  causes  the  soul  great  affliction,  which  leads  it  to  complain, 
but  is  so  delectable  that  it  would  like  never  to  be  without  it. 
This  affliction  is  not  in  the  senses,  and  the  wound  is  not  a  physical 
one,  but  is  deep  down  within  the  soul,  and  thus  does  not  make  the 
impression  of  a  bodily  affliction .  However,  as  this  can  be  explained 

1  This  letter  was  written  on  September  12,  1568. 


332  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [V 

only  by  comparisons,  these  have  to  be  usecU-inept  as  they  are  for 
describing  what  they  represent — for  I  ki^ow  no  other  way  of 
describing  it.  These  things,  therefore,  are  not  meant  to  be 
written  or  spoken  of,  for  they  cannot  possibly  be  understood 
save  by  him  who  has  experienced  them — I  am  referring  now  to 
the  extent  of  the  pain :  for  in  their  nature  the  pains  of  the  spirit 
are  very  different  from  the  pains  of  earth.  From  this  fact  I  deduce 
that  souls  in  hell  and  purgatory  suffer  more  than  we  on  earth  can 
understand  by  making  any  comparison  between  their  pains  and 
those  of  the  body. 

At  other  times,  this  wound  of  love  seems  to  spring  from  the 
soul's  inmost  depths.  The  effects  it  produces  are  great;  and, 
unless  the  Lord  inflicts  it,  we  cannot  come  by  it,  however  much 
we  try,  nor,  when  He  is  pleased  to  send  it,  can  we  escape  it. 
These  effects  are  desires  for  God,  so  quick  and  subtle  as  to  be 
indescribable.  As  the  soul  finds  itself  tied  and  bound  so  that  it 
cannot  have  fruition  of  God  as  it  would  wish,  it  conceives  a  great 
hatred  for  the  body,  which  seems  to  it  like  a  great  world  standing 
between  it  and  the  fruition  of  something  of  which  it  seems  to 
realize  that  it  is  in  fact  having  fruition  within  itself  when  un- 
trammelled by  the  body.  It  then  sees  how  great  was  the  evil  that 
came  to  us  through  the  sin  of  Adam,  which  took  this  freedom  from 
us. 

I  had  experienced  this  kind  of  prayer  before  having  the  raptures 
and  the  powerful  impulses  which  I  have  described.  I  forgot  to 
say  that  these  powerful  impulses  hardly  ever  le'ave  me,  save  when 
the  Lord  has  granted  me  a  great  joy  and  a  rapture  which  comforts 
the  soul  and  gives  it  courage  to  live  for  His  sake. 

All  this  that  I  have  said  cannot,  for  various  reasons  which  it 
would  take  too  long  to  relate,  be  mere  fancy.  Whether  it  is  good 
or  not,  the  Lord  knows.  But  to  the  best  of  my  belief  its  effects 
and  the  benefits  it  brings  the  soul  cannot  fail  to  be  realized.1 

I  see  the  Persons,  distinct  One  from  Another,  as  clearly  as  I 
saw  two  persons  yesterday  when  Your  Reverence  was  talking  to 
the  Provincial2;  only,  as  I  have  already  told  Your  Reverence, 
I  actually  see  and  hear  nothing  at  all.  Yet,  although  this  may 
not  be  seen  by  the  eyes  of  the  soul,  there  is  a  strange  certainty 
about  it;  and,  as  soon  as  the  presence  is  no  longer  there,  its 
absence  is  noticed.  How  this  happens,  I  cannot  say,  but  I  am 
quite  sure  it  is  not  imagination;  for,  even  if  I  do  my  very  utmost  to 
recall  the  vision — and  I  have  tried  to  do  so — I  cannot  succeed. 
So  it  is  with  all  I  have  set  down  here,  as  far  as  I  can  understand 

1  The  next  three  paragraphs  are  not  found  in  the  Toledo  codex. 
*  The  reference  is  to  P.  Diego  de  Acosta,  Provincial  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  in 
Andalusia. 


V]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  333 

the  matter,  for,  as  I  have  had  these  experiences  for  so  many'years, 
I  have  been  able  to  make  my  observations,  and  so  can  speak  on 
the  subject  very  definitely.  It  is  true — and  Your  Reverence 
should  take  note  of  this — that  I  can  affirm  which  Person  it  is 
Who  always  seems  to  me  to  be  speaking  to  me;  but,  of  the  Others, 
I  could  not  make  any  such  affirmation.  One  of  Them,  I  well 
know,  has  never  spoken  to  me:  I  have  not  been  able  to  grasp  why 
and  I  do  not  spend  more  time  asking  things  of  God  than  it  is 
His  will  I  should,  for  if  I  did  I  believe  the  devil  would  at  once 
start  practising  his  deceptions  on  me;  and  I  will  not  ask  now,  for 
I  should  be  afraid  to  do  so. 

I  think  the  Chief1  of  the  Persons  has  sometimes  spoken  to 
me,  but,  as  I  do  not  remember  very  clearly,  and  forget  what 
it  was  He  said,  I  will  not  venture  to  affirm  this.  All  I  have  said 
here  has  already  been  written  down,  and  at  great  length — Your 
Reverence  knows  where — only  I  am  not  sure  if  I  have  used  these 
words.  Though  in  some  strange  way  the  Persons  are  apprehended 
by  the  soul  as  distinct,  it  realizes  that  They  are  One  God.  I  do 
not  remember  ever  having  thought  that  Our  Lord  was  speaking 
to  me,  except  in  the  form  of  His  Humanity,  and  this,  I  repeat, 
I  can  affirm  to  be  no  mere  fancy. 

Of  what  Your  Reverence  says  about  the  water  I  know  nothing, 
nor  have  I  gathered  where  the  Earthly  Paradise  is.  I  have 
already  said  that  what  the  Lord  teaches  me  I  cannot  help  learn- 
ing: I  understand  it  because  I  cannot  do  otherwise.  But  to  ask 
His  Majesty  to  teach  me  anything  is.  a  thing  I1  have  never  done. 
If  I  did,  I  should  at  once  think  that  I  was  imagining  it  all  and  that 
the  devil  must  be  deceiving  me.  Glory  be  to  God,  I  have  never 
been  curious  about  wanting  to  know  things  and  I  do  not  in  the 
least  mind  not  knowing  more  than  I  do.  It  has  cost  me  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  to  learn  what,  as  I  say,  I  have  learned  without 
wanting  to  do  so,  though  I  think  it  has  been  a  means  made  use 
of  by  the  Lord  for  my  salvation,  when  He  saw  how  wicked  I  was : 
good  people  do  not  need  so  much  to  make  them  serve  His  Majesty. 

I  remember  another  kind  of  prayer  which  I  experienced  before 
the  first  I  described:  it  consists  in  a  presence  of  God  and  is  in  no 
sense  a  vision.  It  would  seem  that,  except  perhaps  during  periods 
of  aridity,  anyone  who  ever  desires  to  commend  himself  to  His 
Majesty,  if  only  by  means  of  vocal  prayer,  will  find  Him.  May 
He  grant  me  not  to  lose  such  great  favours  through  my  own  fault 
and  may  He  have  mercy  on  me.2 

1  [Thus  the  Spanish:  "La  principal  ..."  Lewis,  presumably  to  escape  the  obvious 
theological  difficulty,  translates  "First";  I  think,  however,  that  St.  Teresa  means, 
not  God  the  Father,  but  that  Person  Who  appears  to  her  the  most  frequently.]  ^ 

*  This  paragraph  has  been  a  source  of  much  controversy,  which,  however,  it  is 
impossible  to  summarize  or  discuss  in  a  footnote. 


334  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [VI 


RELATION  VI 
From  Palencia,  in  the  year 
JESUS 

Oh,  if  only  I  could  give  Your  Lordship2  a  clear  idea  of  the 
quiet  and  calm  in  which  my  soul  now  finds  itself!  For3  it  is  now  so 
certain  that  it  will  have  fruition  of  God  that  it  seems  to  be  in 
possession  of  it  already,  though  it  is  not  yet  enjoying  it.  It  is  as 
though  one  person  had  given  another  a  large  sum  of  money,  by 
means  of  a  deed,  formsdly  executed,  empowering  him  to  enter 
upon  the  enjoyment  of  it  at  some  future  time,  when  he  will  have 
the  use  of  all  that  it  brings  in.  Until  that  time  arrives  he  can  enjoy 
only  the  possession  into  which  he  has  entered  and  because  of 
which  he  will  enjoy  the  money  itself  in  due  course.  So  deep  is  my 
gratitude  for  this  possession  that  I  should  not  wish  to  have  the 
enjoyment  of  it  yet,  for  I  do  not  think  I  have  yet  merited  it. 
All  I  want  is  to  serve,  even  if  service  means  great  suffering,  and 
sometimes  I  think  that  if  I  were  to  serve  God  from  now  until 
the  end  of  the  world  it  would  be  a  small  thing  by  comparison 
with  the  title  of  possession  He  has  given  me.  In  some  respects 
my  soul  is  not  really  subject  to  the  miseries  of  the  world  as  it 
used  to  be:  it  suffers  more  but  it  feels  as  if  the  sufferings  were 
wounding  only  its  garments;  it  does  not  itself  lose  its  peace, 
though  its  security  does  not  take  away  its  great  fear  of  offending 
God  and  all  that  may  hinder  it  from  serving  Him,  but  rather 
makes  it  the  more  careful.  Yet  it  is  so  oblivious  to  its  own  advan- 
tage that  it  seems  in  a  way  to  have  lost  its  own  self,  so  oblivious 
to  self  is  it.  In  everything  its  aim  is  God's  honour,  the  stricter 
fulfilment  of  His  will  and  His  glorification. 

In  spite  of  this,  I  think  I  am  more  careful  than  I  used  to  be  as 

regards  my  health  and  my  body,  and  less  mortified  as  to  food  and 

in  doing  penance.  I  am  not  less  desirous  of  this  than  I  used  to  be, 

*  however.  All  I  do,  it  seems,  is  being  done  with  the  aim  of  serving 

1Most  of  this  Relation  was  first  published  among  its  author's  letters  in  the  1674 
edition  of  her  works  As  far  as  possible,  we  follow  the  Madnd  autograph,  which  is 
in  a  poor  state  of  preservation. 

2  Don  Alonso  Velazquez,  her  former  confessor  at  Toledo,  by  this  time  Bishop  of 
Osma.  Cf.  Foundations,  Chap.  XXX  (Vol.  III.  pp.  177-81,  below).  He  became  Arch- 
bishop of  Santiago  in  1583  and  died  in  1587. 

3  The  Madnd  autograph  begins  here.  Above  the  first  line  is  a  note,  written  appar- 
ently by  the  Bishop:  "Part  of  a  Relation  which  the  Mother  sent  me  in  consulting 
[me  about]  her  spirit  and  method  of  procedure."  This  note  would  suggest  that  the 
Relation  *as  we  have  it  is  not  complete,  though  there  is  no  internal  evidence  to  support 
the  suggestion.' 


VI]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  335 

God  better  in  other  ways,  for  I  often  offer  Him,  as  a  great  sacrifice, 
the  care  I  take  of  my  body,  which  it  worries  me  a  great  deal  to  do. 
Sometimes  I  put  myself  to  the  test  in  such  matters,  but  I  really 
think  I  cannot  do  these  things  without  risk  to  my  health  and  I 
always  bear  in  mind  what  my  superiors  order  me.  Into  this, 
and  into  the  desire  for  good  health,  there  must  necessarily  enter 
a  great  deal  of  self-love.  But  I  believe  it  would  make  me  much 
happier  to  do  heavy  penances,  as  it  did  when  I  was  able  to 
perform  them.  For  then  at  least  I  seemed  to  be  doing  something, 
setting  a  good  example  and  suffering  none  of  the  trials  which 
come  from  not  serving  God  at  all.  Your  Lordship  must  consider 
what  it  is  best  for  me  to  do  in  this  matter. 

The  imaginary  visions  have  ceased,  but  I  seem  always  to  be 
having  this  intellectual  vision  of  the  three  Persons  and  of  Christ's 
Humanity,  which,  I  think,  is  of  a  much  higher  kind.  I  realize 
now,  I  think,  that  the  visions  which  I  have  had  were  of  God, 
for  they  prepared  my  soul  for  the  state  in  which  it  now  is.  It 
was  so  wretched  and  had  so  little  courage  that  gradually  God 
led  me  along  as  He  saw  to  be  necessary  for  me,  but,  in  my  view, 
these  visions  are  of  great  price  when  they  come  from  God. 

The  interior  locutions  have  not  ceased,  for,  whenever  necessary, 
Our  Lord  uses  them  for  giving  me  certain  counsels.  Quite  recently, 
in  Palencia,  had  it  not  been  for  such  counsels,  I  should  have 
committed  a  gross  blunder,  though  not  a  culpable  one.1 

My  acts  and  desires  seem  not  to  be  as  strong  as  they  once  were, 
for,  powerful  though  they  are,  I  have  a  desire  much  more  power- 
ful than  any  of  them — that  the  will  of  God  may  be  done  and  what- 
ever promotes  His  glory.  For,  as  my  soul  is  well  aware  that 
His  Majesty  knows  what  is  expedient  to  that  end,  and  is  very  far 
from  cherishing  any  kind  of  self-interest,  these  desires  and  acts 
pass  quickly  away,  and  have,  I  think,  no  great  strength.  Hence 
comes  the  fear  which  sometimes  haunts  me,  though  without  the 
disquiet  and  distress  which  formerly  accompanied  it,  that  my 
soul  has  sunk  into  a  stupor,  and  that,  because  I  cannot  do  penance, 
I  am  accomplishing  nothing.  Any  acts  of  desire  for  suffering 
and  martyrdom  and  the  vision  of  God  that  I  may  make  have  no 
strength  in  them  and  as  a  rule  I  am  unable  to  make  any  at  all. 
I  se^m  to  be  living  simply  for  the  sake  of  eating  and  sleeping 
and  avoiding  any  land  of  distress;  and  evfen  this  does  not  distress 
me,  except  that  sometimes,  as  I  say,  I  am  afraid  I  am  being 
deluded;  yet  I  cannot  think  that  to  be  so,  for  I  firmly  believe 
that  no  strong  attachment  to  any  creature  or  to  all  the  glory  of 
Heaven  has  any  dominion  over  me.  My  one  attachment  is  to 

1  Gf.  the  incident  of  the  houses  near  Our  Lady  of  the  Street  in  that  city  (Foundations, 
Chap.  XXIX:  VoL  III,  pp.  170  ff,  below.) 


336  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [VI 

the  love  of  God,  and  this  has  not  been  diminishing:  indeed,  I 
think  it  is  increasing,  as  is  my  desire  that  all  should  serve  Him. 

But,  despite  this,  one  thing  astonishes  me — that  I  can  no 
longer  experience  those  exceedingly  strong  interior  feelings  which 
used  to  torment  me  when  I  saw  souls  Joeing  lost  and  wondered 
if  I  was  committing  some  offence  against  God.  Yet  I  believe 
my  desire  that  He  should  not  be  offended  is  no  less  than  it  was 
then. 

Your  Lordship  must  observe  that  neither  in  this  respect,  nor 
in  my  present  or  my  former  state,  have  I  been  able  to  do  more, 
for  that  is  not  in  my  power:  I  would  serve  God  more  if  I  could 
and  if  I  were  not  so  wicked.  But  I  repeat  that,  if  I  made  the 
greatest  effort  to  try  to  desire  to  die,  I  could  not  make  the  acts 
that  I  was  accustomed  to  make,  nor  feel  the  same  distress  at  having 
offended  God  or  the  same  great  fears  which  troubled  me  for  so 
many  years  when  I  used  to  wonder  if  I  was  being  deluded,  and 
so  I  have  no  need  to  mix  with  learned  men  or  to  talk  to  anybody 
but  ,only  to'  satisfy  myself  that  I  am  now  on  the  right  road  and 
am  good  for  anything  at  all.  I  have  discussed  this  with  persons 
whom  I  have  consulted  about  the  other  matters — namely,  Fray 
Domingo  and  Master  Medina  and  some  of  the  Fathers  of  the 
Company.1  I  shall  accept  whatever  Your  Lordship  may  say  to 
me  because  of  my  firm  trust  in  Your  Lordship;  I  beg  you,  then, 
for  the  love  of  God,  to  consider  it  carefully.  I  do  not  cease  to 
learn  that  certain  souls  connected  with  me  who  have  died2  are 
in  Heaven;  of  others  I  know  nothing.  .  .  .  3 

My  interior  peace  and  the  little  which  joys  or  troubles 
can  do  to  deprive  me  permanently  of  this  presence  make  it  so 
impossible  for  me  to  doubt  the  presence  of  the  three  Persons 
that  I  seem  clearly  to  be  experiencing  the  truth  of  those  words 
of  Saint  John,  that  He  will  make  His  abode4  with  the  soul.5 
And  this  not  only  through  grace,  but  because  He  is  pleased  to 

1  She  may  mean  PP.  Baltasar  Alvarez  and  Jeronimo  Ripalda,  whom  she  had  seen 
in  1580,  at  Toledo  and  Valladolid,  respectively 

2  Her  brother  Lorenzo  had  die.d  in  1580.  In  the  autograph  the  words  *el  do  not . ,  . 
know  nothing"  are  in  the  margin.  [As  the  text  itself  suggests,  they  were  probably  an 
afterthought.] 

3  There  follow  here  m  the  Spanish  twenty-three  words  which  no  commentator 
or  translator  has  found  intelligible.   [To  the  present  translator  they  look  like  notes 
or  a  rough  draft  of  something  which  was  never  developed,  quite  unconnected  with  the 
Relation,  but  why  they  should,  have  been  written  in  the  body  of  it,  and  not  in  the 
margin,  is  incomprehensible.  P.  Silveno  thinks  they  were  written  in  a  kind  of  cipher, 
understood  only  by  the  Bishop,  but  this  seems  a  little  fantastic.  The  rendering  given 
by  the  Benedictines  of  Stanbrook  (Letters,  St.,  IV,  180)  is  not  a  translation  but  a  free 
paraphrase,  giving  some  of  the  words  a  sense  which  they  would  not  normally  bear. 
Translated  literally,  the  passage  reads:  "The  solitude  which  makes  [one]  thi^k  cannot 
give  that  sense  to  him  that  sucks  the  breasts  of  my  mother.  The  exodus  from  Egypt.]  " 

4  \Morada — the  word  translated  "mansion"  in  the  Interior  Castle.] 

5  St.  John  xiv,  23. 


VI]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  337 

make  the  soul  conscious  of  that  presence,  which  brings  so  many 
blessings  that  they  cannot  all  be  described.  In  particular,  there 
is  no  need  to  go  in  search  of  reflections  in  order  to  know  that  God 
is  there.  This  is  almost  my  normal  state,  except  when  I  am 
seriously  oppressed  by  ill-health.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  be  God's 
will  that  I  should  suffer  and  have  no  interior  comfort,  but  never, 
even  for  a  single  moment,  does  my  will  swerve  from  the  will  of  God. 
This  submission  to  His  will  has  such  power  over  me  that  my  soul 
desires  neither  death  nor  life  save  for  short  periods  when  it  longs 
to  see  God.  But  then  its  realization  of  the  presence  of  these  three 
Persons  becomes  so  vivid  as  to  afford  relief  to  the  distress  caused 
by  its  absence  from  God  and  sustains  the  desire  to  live,  if  such 
be  His  will,  in  order  that  it  may  serve  Him  better.  If  through 
my  intercession  I  could  do  anything  to  make  a  single  soul  love 
and  praise  Him  more,  and  that  only  for  a  short  time,  it  seems  to 
me  of  greater  moment  than  my  being  in  glory. 

TERESA  OF  JESUS. 


FAVOURS  OF  GOD 

VII1 

On  the  seventeenth  of  November,  in  the  Octave  of  Saint 
Martin,  1569,  I  saw  that,  as  far  as  I  know,  twelve  years  had 
passed  out  of  thirty-three,  which  is  the  length  of  the  life  of  Our 
Lord.  Twenty-one  years  remain. 

At  Toledo,  in  the  convent  of  the  glorious  Saint  Joseph  of 
Carmel. 

I  for  Thee  and  Thou  for  me.     Life. 

Twelve  have  been  lived  by  me  and  not  by  my  own  will.2 

1  The  original  manuscript  of  this  Relation  belongs  to  the  Discalced  Carmelite 
nuns  of  Medina  del  Gampo 

*  General  agreement  has  never  been  reached  on  the  sense  of  these  enigmatic  words. 
In  the  1793  edition  of  the  Saint's  works,  P.  Antonio  de  San  Jos£  discusses  them  at 
length  (Cartes,  IV.,  386  if.)  but  is  not  enlightening.  Maria  de  San  Jose,  in  one  of  her 
depositions,  says  that  her  brother,  P.  Gracian,  knew  what  they  meant,  but  it  may  be 
suspected  from  his  Dialogos  sobre  la  muerte  de  la  Madre  Teresa  (ed.  Burgos,  1915,  p-^9) 
that  he  too  had  his  doubts.  Teresita  (Don  Lorenzo's  daughter)  refers  to  the  vision, 
but  not  accurately  [cf  P.  Silveno,  II,  43n].  It  is  generally  held  that  the  revelation 
informed  the  Saint  in  advance  of  the  correct  date  of  her  death  [but  this  is  evidently 
not  so,  for  she  died,  not  twenty-one  years  after  it  happened,  nor  even  twelve,  but  a 
ktde  less  than  thirteen.  Personally,  I  take  the  meaning  to  be  that  twelve  years  had 
passed  since  the  Saint's  "second  conversion"  (which  is  approximately  correct  and 
except  for  the  single  word  **  Life"  explains  the  last  two  sentences)  and  that  she  under- 
stood from  the  vision  that  she  was  to  live  twenty-one  years  more — i.e.,  that  the  whole 
of  her  "new  life"  would  be  of  the  same  length  as  the  earthly  life  of  Our  Lord  That 
she  misinterpreted  the  revelation,  or  that  it  was  not  a  true  one5  does  not  seem  to  me  an 
impossible  supposition]. 


338  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [VIII -IX 


VIII1 

When  I  was  in  the  Toledo  convent,  several  people  advised 
me  not  to  have  anyone  buried  there  who  was  not  well  born. 
But  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "Thou  wilt  act  very  foolishly,  daughter, 
if  thou  regardest  the  laws  of  the  world.  Fix  thine  eyes  on  Me, 
Who  am  poor  and  despised  by  the  world.  Dost  thou  suppose  the 
great  ones  of  the  world  are  great  in  My  eyes?  And  will  you  all 
be  esteemed  for  your  noble  hneage  or  for  your  virtues?" 

IX2 

On  the  second  day  of  Lent,  at  Saint  Joseph's,  Malagon,  I  had 
just  communicated,  when  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  appeared  to 
me  in  an  imaginary  vision,  which  is  His  usual  method  of  appear- 
ing. While  I  was  looking  at  Him,  I  saw  that,  encircling  His 
liead,  instead  of  the  crown  of  thorns,  in  what  must  have  been  the 
place  where  He  was  wounded  by  it,  was  a  crown  of  great  splen- 
dour. As  I  am  devoted  to  this  mystery,  I  was  very  much  comforted  ; 
and  then  I  began  to  think  what  torture  He  must  have  suffered 
from  the  many  wounds  it  gave  Him  and  I  felt  very  much  dis- 
tressed. Then  the  Lord  told  me  not  to  be  grieved  because  of 
those  wounds  but  because  of  the  many  wounds  inflicted  upon 
Him  now.  I  asked  Him  what  I  could  do  to  help  about  this, 
for  I  was  resolved  I  would  do  anything  that  was  possible.  He 
replied  that  this  was  no  time  for  me  to  rest:  I  was  to  make  haste 
and  found  these  houses  and  He  would  feel  rested  when  there  were 
souls  living  in  them.  I  must  take  all  the  houses  that  might  be 
given  me,  He  added/for  there  were  many  souls  who  did  not  serve 
Him  because  they  had  no  place  in  which  to  do  so ;  and  the  houses 
I  founded  hi  small  towns  should  be  like  this  one,  for  they  would 
be  just  as  meritorious  if  they  tried  to  do  what  was  being  done 
in  the  others.  I  must  see  that  they  were  all  placed  under  the  rule 
of  one  superior  and  take  great  care  that  concern  for  the  sustenance 
of  their  bodies  did  not  deprive  them  of  inward  peace,  for  He 
would  help  us  so  that  we  should  lack  nothing.  We  were  to  take 

1  This  Relation,  published  by  Luis  de  Le6n,  is  not  in  the  Avila  or  the  Toledo  codex 
but  is  taken  from  an  old  manuscript  belonging  to  the  Discalced  Carmelite  nuns  of 
AlcalA  de  Henares,  and  composed  of  letters  cut  from  some  manuscript  in  St.  Teresa's 
hand.  The  date  of  the  event  referred  to  in  the  text  is  1569-70.  Cf.  Foundations.  Chap. 
XV  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  75,  below)  and  Ribera,  Bk.  II,  Chap.  XIV. 

*The  date  of  this  favour  cannot  he  1568,  the  year  in  which  the  Malag6n  convent 
was  founded,  and  it  was  not  inaugurated  until  Palm  Sunday  of  that  year.  It  may 
have  been  in  one  of  the  years  immediately  following,  when  St,  Teresa  was  in  the 
Malagon  district,  and  it  was  certainly  not  later  than  1573,  the  year  in  which  she  began 
the  Foundations.  This  i*  the  first  revelation  described  in  the  Avila  codex* 


IX-XIII]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  339 

particular  care  of  sisters  who  were  sick,  for  any  prioress  who  did 
not  provide  for  the  sick,  and  comfort  them,  was  like  the  friends 
of  Job:  it  was  He  who  chastised  them  with  sickness  for  the  good 
of  their  souls  and  unfeeling  prioresses  imperilled  their  nuns* 
patience.  Finally,  He  said,  I  was  to  write  about  the  foundation 
of  these  houses.  I  was  wondering  at  the  time  how  it  was  that  I 
had  thought  of  nothing  to  write  about  concerning  the  foundation 
at  Medina.1  What  more  did  I  want,  He  asked,  than  to  realize 
that  its  foundation  had  been  miraculous?  He  meant  by  this  that, 
when  there  had  seemed  no  way  of  making  the  foundation, 
He  alone  had  done  it.  I  determined,  therefore,  to  put  what  He 
had  said  into  practice. 

X2 

Once,  when  I  was  thinking  that  I  did  not  in  the  least  under- 
stand some  advice  which  the  Lord  had  given  me  to  pass  on  to 
someone  else,  although  I  had  begged  Him  to  give  it  me,  so  that  I 
was  beginning  to  wonder  if  it  were  from  the  devil,  He  said  to  me 
that  it  was  not  so  and  He  would  let  me  know  when  the  time  came. 


XI3 

Once,  when  I  was  thinking  how  much  purer  are  the  lives 
of  those  who  have  not  to  engage  in  business,  and  how  badly  I 
always  get  on  and  how  many  mistakes  I  make  in,  business  matters, 
I  heard  these  words:  "There  is  no  help  for  that,  daughter. 
Strive  thou  always  to  have  a  right  intention  and  to  be  detached 
in  everything,  and  look  to  Me,  so  that  all  thine  actions  may  be  in 
accordance  with  Mine." 

XIP 

When  I  was  wondering  why  it  was  that  I  now  scarcely  ever 
have  raptures  in  public,  I  heard  these  words:  "It  is  not  fitting 
just  now.  Thou  hast  as  much  credit  as  I  desire  thee  to  have. 
What  we  are  considering  is  the  weakness  of  the  wicked." 

XIIP 

One  day,  when  I  was  greatly  concerned  about  the  relief  of 
the  Order,  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "Do  what  lies  in  thee  and  leave 

*  Gf.  Foundations  (Vol.  Ill,  pp.  xvi,  7  ff,  below). 
2 1570-1. 

3  This,  hke"the  next  two  favours,  occurred  about  1570.  The  Discalced  Carmelite 
nuns  at  Calahorra  have  a  manuscript  copy  cojnposed  of  letters  cut  out  of  one  of  the 
Saint's  autographs.  Cf.  Ribera,  Bk  II,  Chap.  XVIII. 

4  Gf.  Ribera,  loc.  at.  , 

5  Found  only  in  the  Avila  and  Toledo  codices. 


340  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS          [XIII-XV 

Me  alone  and  trouble  thyself  about  nothing.  Rejoice  in  the 
blessing  which  has  been  given  thee,  and  which  is  very  great. 
My  Father  delights  in  thee  and  the  Holy  Spirit  loves  thee." 

XIV1 

One  day  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "Thou  art  continually  desiring 
trials,  yet  when  I  send  them  thou  refusest  them.  I  order  things 
according  to  what  I  know  to  be  thy  will  and  not  according  to 
thy  sensuality  and  weakness.  Strive,  for  thou  seest  how  I  am 
helping  thee.  I  have  wished  thee  to  gain  this  crown.  In  thy  time 
thou  shalt  see  the  Order  of  the  Virgin  make  great  progress." 
This  I  heard  from  the  Lord  in  mid-February  of  the  year  i57i.a 

XV3 

All  yesterday  I  found  myself  in  great  desolation,  and,  except 
when  I  communicated,  the  fact  that  it  was  the  day  of  the  Resurrec- 
tion had  no  effect  on  me.  Last  night,  when  I  was  with  the  whole 
community,  they  sang  a  little  song  about  how  hard  it  is  to  endure 
life  without  God.4  I  was  in  great  distress  at  the  time;  and  so 
powerful  was  the  effect  which  the  song  produced  upon  me 
that  my  hands  began  to  get  numb,  and  it  was  useless  for  me  to 
resist;  but,  just  as  I  go  out  from  myself  with  raptures  of  joy,  just 
so  my  soul  was  suspended  with  the  exceedingly  great  pain,  and 
I  became  unconscious.  It  is  only  to-day  that  I  have  realized 
this.  In  fact,  a  few  days  ago  I  was  thinking  that  the  impulses 
which  came  to  me  were  not  as  vehement  as  they  used  to  be; 
now  I  believe  that  this  is  explained  by  what  I  hav£  described, 
though  I  ain  not  sure  if  that  is  possible.  Previously  the  pain 
had  not  gone  so  far  as  to  deprive  me  of  consciousness,  and,  as 
it  was  so  intolerable  and  I  still  had  the  use  of  my  senses,  it  would 
make  me  utter  loud  cries  which  I  was  unable  to  restrain.  Now 
it  has  grown  so  much  and  reached  such  a  pitch  that  it  pierces  me 
through  and  through:  I  can  now  understand  better  how  Our 
Lady's  heart  was  pierced,  for  until  to-day,  as  I  say,  I  did  not  know 
what  such  piercing  is.  My  body  was  so  exhausted  that  even  to-day 

1  The  original  belongs  to  the  Augustinian  nuns  of  Jupille,  in  Belgium. 

2  Probably  at  Alba  de  Tonnes .  St.  Teresa  went  thence  to  Salamanca  in  March  1571 . 

3  The  original  of  this  Relation,  which  is  incomplete  both  in  the  codices  and  in  the 
editio  princcpSy  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Discalced  Carmelite  nuns  of  San  Egidio, 
Rome.   It  was  probably  addressed  to  P.  Martin  Guti&rez,  Rector  of  the  Society  of 
Jesus  at  Salamanca,  about  April  1571. 

4  The  singer  was  M.  Isabel  de  Jesus,  then  a  novice  in  the  Discalced  Carmelite 
convent  at  Salamanca.  She  herself  gave  full  details  of  the  incident  in  her  depositions 
[cit.  P.  Silverio,  II,  47  n.  3:  the  first  stanza  of  the  song  is  translated  in  Vol.  II,  p.  327. 
below.  Cf.  also  Ribera,  Bk.  IV,  Chap.  XJ. 


XV]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  341 

I  can  write  this  only  with  great  difficulty  and  my  hands  are  very 
painful  and  feel  as  if  they  were  out  of  joint.  Your  Reverence  will 
tell  me,  when  you  see  me,  if  this  unconsciousness  can  be  the 
result  of  suffering,  and  if  I  am  right  in  my  feelings  about  it,  or 
mistaken. 

The  pain  continued  until  this  morning,  when,  as  I  was  in 
prayer,  I  experienced  a  deep  rapture,  and  thought  that  Our 
Lord  had  carried  away  my  spirit  to  be  near  His  Father  and  was 
saying  to  Him:  "Her  whom  Thou  gavest  Me  I  give  to  Thee"; 
and  He  seemed  to  be  drawing  me  to  Himself.  This  is  not  some- 
thing imaginary  but  an  experience  which  is  most  certainly  true, 
and  of  so  spiritual  a  subtlety  that  it  cannot  possibly  be  explained. 
He  spoke  a  few  words  to  me  which  I  do  not  remember:  some 
of  them  referred  to  His  granting  me  a  favour.  His  keeping  me 
near  Him  lasted  for  some  time. 

I  know  that  Your  Reverence  has  a  great  deal  to  do  and  that  I 
cannot  therefore  come  to  you  for  comfort  even  when  I  need  it, 
for  I  realize  that  Your  Reverence's  occupations  are  more  im- 
portant than  my  needs.  None  the  less,  when  you  went  away  so 
quickly  yesterday,  I  was  for  some  time  sad  and  distressed. 
My  condition  was  aggravated  by  the  state  of  desolation  I  was  in, 
which  I  have  already  described,  and  as  I  believe  there  is  no  created 
thing  on  earth  to  which  I  am  bound  by  attachment,  I  began 
to  have  some  scruples  about  this,  and  feared  I  was  beginning 
to  lose  this  freedom.  This  happened  last  night,  and  to-day  Our 
Lord  spoke  to  me  and  told  me  not  to  be  surprised  at  it,  for,  just 
as  mortals  desire  companions  to  whom  they  may  communicate 
their  sensual  pleasures,  so  the  soul  desires  such  a  companion, 
when  there  is  anyone  who  can  understand  it,  in  order  to  commu- 
nicate its  joys  and  troubles  to  that  person,  and  when  it  finds 
none  it  is  sad.  He  said  to  me:  "He  is  doing  well  now  and  his 
works  please  Me.*'  When  He  had  been  with  me  for  some  time, 
I  remembered  how  I  had  told  Your  Reverence  that  these  visions 
passed  quickly.  So  He  told  me  that  these  were  not  the  same  thing 
as  imaginary  visions  and  that  there  could  be  no  fixed  rule  about 
the  graces  that  He  bestowed  upon  us;  it  was  well  that  they  should 
be  granted  now  in  one  way  and  now  in  another. 

One  day,  after  communicating,  I  had  the  clearest  vision  of 
Our  Lord.  He  seemed  to  come  and  sit  beside  me,  and  began  to 
comfort  me  with  great  consolations.  Among  other  things  He 
said  to  me:  "Thou  seest  Me  here,  daughter.  It  is  I.  Show 
Me  thy  hands/5  And  He  seemed  to  take  them  and  put  them  to 
His  side.  And  He  said:  "See  My  wounds.  Thou  art  not  without 
Me.  Life  is  short  and  soon  passes."  From  some  of  the  things 
He  said  to  me  I  learned  that,  since  ascending  into  the  heavens, 


342  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS          [XV-XVI 

He  had  never  come  down  to  earth  again  to  communicate  Himself 
to  anyone,  except  in  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament.  He  told  me  that, 
after  His  resurrection,  He  had  visited  Our  Lady  because  she  had 
been  in  great  need:  her  sorrow  had  so  absorbed  her  and  pierced 
her  soul  that  she  did  not  even  then  immediately  recover  and  so 
have  fruition  of  that  joy.  This  showed  me  how  different  had  been 
the  piercing  of  my  own  heart-  What  must  that  of  the  Virgin 
have  been !  I  learned  that  He  had  stayed  with  her  for  a  long  time 
because  this  had  been  necessary  for  her  consolation. 

XVI1 

On  the  Tuesday  following  Ascension  Day,  I  spent  some  time 
in  prayer,  after  communicating  in  a  state  of  distress  because  I  was 
so  distracted  as  to  be  incapable  of  concentration.  So  I  complained 
of  our  miserable  nature  to  the  Lord.  Then  my  soul  began  to 
kindle  with  fire  and  I  seemed  to  have  the  clearest  realization  of 
the  presence  of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity  in  an  intellectual  Vision, 
through  which,  in  a  sort  of  picture,  or  figure  of  the  truth,  of  a  kind 
that  even  my  stupidity  could  understand,  my  soul  learned  how 
God  is  Three  and  One.  And  thus,  it  seemed  to  me,  all  Three 
Persons  were  speaking  and  were  distinctly  present  within  my  soul. 
They  told  me  that  from  that  day  onward  I  should  find  myself 
better  in  three  respects,  for  each  of  the  three  Persons  was  granting 
me  a  favour.  One  would  give  me  charity;  One,  joy  in  suffering; 
and  One,  a  consciousness  of  that  charity,  with  an  enkindled  soul. 
I  now  realized  the  meaning  of  these  words  spoken  by  the  Lord — 
that  the  three  Divine  Persons  will  be  with  the  soul  that  is  in  grace 
— for  I  experienced  Their  presence  within  me  in  the  way  I  have 
described.  Afterwards  I  thanked  the  Lord  for  this  great  favour, 
of  which  I  knew  myself  to  be  unworthy,  and  with  great  fervour 
begged  His  Majesty  to  tell  me  why,  if  He  was  to  grant  me  such 
favours,  He  had  let  me  escape  out  of  His  hand  and  allowed  me  to 
become  so  wicked,  since  on  the  previous  day  I  had  seen  my  sins 
before  me  and  been  sorely  distressed  at  them.  I  saw  clearly  how 
much  the  Lord  had  done  Himself,  since  I  had  been  quite  a  child, 
to  draw  me,  by  the  most  effectual  means,  to  Himself,  and  how 
none  of  these  means  had  been  of  any  avail.  This  gave  me  a  clear 
picture  of  the  surpassingly  great  love  which  God  has  for  us,  in 
that  He  will  forgive  us  everything  if  only  we  will  turn  to  Him, 
and  for  many  reasons  He  has  forgiven  me  more  than  anyone  else. 
These  three  Persons,  Whom  I  saw,  Who  are  one  God  alone, 

1This  incident  took  place  on  May  29,  15719  in  the  convent  of  St  Joseph,  Avila, 
where  the  Saint  had  gone  to  live  by  order  of  the  Provincial  of  the  Observance,  P. 
Alonso  Gonzalez. 


XVI-XVIII]        SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  343 

seemed  to  have  impressed  Themselves  so  deeply  upon  my  soul 
that  I  realized,  if  that  deep  impression  remained,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  be  other  than  recollected  in  such  Divine 
company.  There  are  certain  other  things  that  I  saw  here,  and 
words  that  I  heard,  but  these  there  is  no  reason  to  describe. 

XVII1 

On  one  occasion,  a  little  earlier  than  this,  when  I  was  about 
to  communicate,  and  the  Form  had  not  yet  been  given  me  but 
was  still  in  the  ciborium,  I  saw  a  kind  of  dove,  the  movement  of 
whose  wings  was  audible.  This  disturbed  me  and  carried  me  so 
far  out  of  myself  that  I  had  great  difficulty  in  receiving  the  Form. 
All  this  happened  at  Saint  Joseph's,  Avila.  The  Most  Holy 
Sacrament  was  given  me  by  Father  Francisco  de  Salcedo.  On 
the  next  day,  while  hearing  his  Mass,  I  saw  the  Lord  glorified 
in  the  Host:  He  told  me  that  his  sacrifice  was  acceptable  to  Him. 

XVIII2 

I  have  had  with  me  this  presence  of  the  Three  Persons,  of 
which  I  spoke  earlier,  until  to-day,  which  is  that  of  the  Com- 
memoration of  Saint  Paul.  They  have  been  continually  present 
in  my  soul;  and,  as  I  was  accustomed  to  have  only  Jesus  Christ 
with  me,  I  had  supposed  all  the  time  that  the  presence  of  the 
Three  Persons  was  to  some  extent  a  hindrance  to  this,  though 
I  know  They  are  all  Three  One  God.  To-day,  while  I  was 
thinking  about  this,  the  Lord  told  me  I  was  wrong  to  think  of 
things  of  the  soul  in  the  same  terms  as  of  those  of  the  body: 
I  must  realize  that  the  two  are  very  different  and  that  the  soul 
has  a  cagacity  for  great  fruition.  This  seemed  to  be  shown  me 
by  the  illustration  of  a  sponge  which  takes  up  and  absorbs  water: 
just  so  my  soul  was  filled  with  the  Godhead  and  in  a  certain  sense 
it  had  within  itself  the  fruition  and  the  possession  of  the  Three 
Persons.  I  also  heard  these  words:  "Labour  not  to  hold  Me  en- 
closed within  thyself  but  to  enclose  thyself  within  Me."  It 
seemed  to  me  that  these  Three  Persons  were  present  within 
my  soul  and  that  I  saw  Them  there,  and  that  They  communi- 
cated Themselves  to  all  created  things,  and  never  either  failed 
to  do  this  or  ceased  to  be  with  me. 

1  Ttus  favour  was  received  in  Avila,  like  the  last. 

2  This  favour  was  probably  received  at  Medina  del  Campo  on  June  30,  1571: 
St.  Teresa  had  been  sent  here  as  Prioress  by  the  Apostolic  Visitor,  P.  Pedro  Fernandez. 


344  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS        [XIX-XXI 


XIX1 

A  few  days  after  what  I  have  described,  while  I  was  wondering 
if  the  people  were  right  who  disapproved  of  my  going  out  to 
make  foundations  and  if  I  should  do  better  to  occupy  myself 
continually  in  prayer,  I  heard  these  words:  "For  as  long  as  life 
lasts,  there  is  no  gain  to  be  had  in  striving  to  have  greater  fruition 
of  Me,  but  only  in  doing  My  will."  It  had  seemed  to  me  that, 
considering  what  Saint  Paul  says  about  women  keeping  at  home2 
(I  have  recently  been  reminded  of  this  and  I  had  already  heard 
of  it),  this  might  be  God's  will.  He  said  to  me:  "Tell  them  they 
are  not  to  be  guided  by  one  part  of  Scripture  alone,  but  to 
look  at  others;  ask  them  if  they  suppose  they  will  be  able  to 
tie  My  hands." 

XX3 

One  day,  after  the  Octave  of  the  Visitation,  I  was  in  one  of 
the  hermitages  of  Mount  Carmel,  commending  a  brother  of 
mine4  to  God:  I  am  not  sure  if  I  was  speaking  to  Him  only 
in  thought,  for  this  brother  of  mine  is  in  a  place  where  his  salva- 
tion is  in  peril,  but  I  said  to  the  Lord:  "If  I  saw  a  brother  of 
Thine  in  this  peril.  Lord,  what  would  I  not  do  to  help  him?  " 
It  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  not  a  single  thing  that  I  would 
have  failed  to  do  if  I  could  have  done  it.  But  the  Lord  said 
to  me:  "Oh,  daughter,  daughter,  those  nuns  of  the  Incarnation 
are  sisters  of  mine  and  thou  holdest  back  from  helping  them. 
Take  courage,  then.  See,  I  will  it  fcso,  and  it  is  not  as  difficult 
as  it  seems  to  thee :  thou  thinkest  that  by  thy  going  there  these 
other  houses  will  lose,  whereas  in  reality  both  will  gain.  Resist  not, 
for  great  is  My  power." 

XXL5 

My  very  great  desire  and  impulses  to  die  have  left  me,  especially 
since  Saint  Mary  Magdalen's  Day,  when  I  determined  to  love 
life  because  by  living  I  could  do  God  great  service.  However, 
they  recur  on  occasion ;  for  I  still  have  the  desire  to  see  Him,  and, 
however  much  I  try  to  crush  it,  I  cannot  do  so. 

1  Medina  del  Campo    shortly  after  the  previous  occurrence 

2  Titus  ii,  5. 

8  Medina  del  Campo :  July  1571.  The  Apostolic  Visitor  sent  her  to  the  Incarnation 
as  Prioress,  much  against  her  will:  presumably  the  incident  here  related  happened 
shortly  after  he  had  given  her  the  order  to  go.  Maria  de  San  Jose"  gives  an  almost 
identical  account  of  the  locution,  with  some  comments  [cf.  P.  Silverio,  IT,  53,  n.  a]. 

4  Agustin  de  Ahumada,  who  had  settled  in  Chile. 

6  Cf.  Ribera,  who  (Bk  IV,  Chaps.  V,  X.),  vouches  for  the  authenticity  of  this  and 
the  next  Relation. 


XXII-XXIV]      SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  345 

XXII 

Once  I  heard  these  words:  c*The  time  will  come  when  many 
miracles  will  be  performed  in  this  church:  it  will  be  called  'the 
holy  church  '  ".  This  was  at  Saint  Joseph's,  in  Avila,  in  the  year 


XXIII1 

I  was  thinking  once  of  the  life  of  great  penitence  lived  by 
Dona  Catalina  de  Cardona,  and  how,  to  judge  by  the  desires 
which  the  Lord  has  sometimes  given  me,  I  might  have  done 
more  than  I  do  had  it  not  been  for  the  obedience  due  to  my 
confessors.  I  was  wondering  if  it  would  be  better  not  to  obey 
them  in  this,  when  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "Not  so,  daughter, 
thou  art  on  the  straight  and  safe  road.  Seest  thou  the  life  of 
great  penitence  she  lives?  I  value  thy  obedience  more." 


XXIV2 

Once,  when  I  was  in  prayer,  the  Lord  showed  me,  by  a  strange 
kind  of  intellectual  vision,  the  condition  of  a  soul  that  is  in  grace. 
While  in  its  company  I  saw,  in  an  intellectual  vision,  the  Most 
Holy  Trinity,  from  Whose  companionship  there  came  to  the 
soul  a  power  which  had  dominion  over  the  whole  earth.  This 
taught  me  the  meaning  of  those  words  in  the  Songs  which  say: 
"Veniat  dilectus  meus  in  hortum  suum  et  comedat."3  He  also 
showed  me  the  condition  of  the  soul  that  is  in  sin;  it  is  com- 
pletely devoid  of  power,  like  a  person  securely  tied,  bound  and 
blindfold,  who,  desire  to  do  so  as  he  may,  can  neither  see  nor 
hear  nor  walk,  but  is  in  great  darkness.  I  conceived  such  pity 
for  souls  in  this  state  that  any  trial  seems  light  to  me  if  I  can 
set  one  of  them  free.  It  seemed  to  me  that  anyone  who  saw  this 
as  I  did  —  and  it  is  hard  to  explain  —  would  find  it  impossible  to 
be  willing  to  lose  so  great  a  goocj  or  to  remain  in  such  evil.4 

1  No  details  of  this  incident  are  known.   Catalina  de  Cardona,  born  at  Naples  in 
1519,  came  to  Spain  and  was  for  a  time  governess  to  Philip  IPs  son  Don  Carlos. 
At  the  age  of  forty-four  she  retired  to  a  hermitage  and  led  a  life  of  great  penitence. 
In  1571  she  joined  the  Pastrana  community  of  the  Discalced  Carmelite  Reform, 
and  lived  in  a  cave  near  the  convent.  She  died  in  1  577.  See  Foundations,  Chap.  XXVIII 
[Vol   III,  pp.  156-61,  below]. 

2  This  episode  took  place  in  1571. 

3  [Canticles  v,  i  :  "Let  my  beloved  come  into  his  garden  and  eat  (the  fruit  of  fths 
apple-trees)."] 

4  On  the  soul  in  sin.,  see  Interior  Castle,  VII,  I    [Vol.  II,  pp.  330-1,  below.] 


346  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS    [XXV-XXVI 


XXV 

On  the  eve  of  Saint  Sebastian,  during  the  first  year  in  which 
I  was  Prioress  at  the  Incarnation/  at  the  beginning  of  the  Salve , 
I  saw  the  Mother  of  God,  with  a  great  multitude  of  angels, 
descend  to  the  Prioress's  stall,  where  Our  Lady  is  enthroned, 
and  seat  herself  there.  I  do  not  believe  I  saw  the  image  then 
but  only  this  Lady.  She  looked  to  me  rather  like  the  picture 
which  the  Countess  gave  me,2  though  the  vision  passed  too 
quickly  for  me  to  decide  this  because  immediately  my  faculties 
became  completely  suspended.  There  seemed  to  be  angels 
above  the  misericords  and  on  the  kneeling  rests  of  the  stalls, 
though  I  did  not  see  them  in  bodily  form,  because  this  was  an 
intellectual  vision.  Our  Lady  remained  there  during  the  whole 
of  the  Salve  and  said  to  me:  "Thou  hast  done  well  to  place  me 
here;  I  will  be  here  when  praises  are  offered  to  my  Son  and 
will  present  them  to  Him."  After  that  I  remained  in  the  state 
of  prayer  which  I  experience  when  my  soul  is  in  the  company 
of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity;  and  I  thought  that  the  Person  of  the 
Father  drew  me  to  Himself  and  spoke  words  that  were  most 
comfortable.  Among  them  were  these,  which  showed  me  the 
love  He  had  for  me:  "I  gave  thee  My  Son  and  the  Holy  Spirit 
and  this  Virgin.  What  canst  thou  give  Me?" 

XXVI3 

On  Palm  Sunday,  after  Communion,  my  faculties  were  com- 
pletely suspended,  so  that  I  was  not  able  even  to  swallow  the 
Sacred  Form,  and,  finding  It  in  my  mouth,  when  I  had  come 
round  a  little,  I  really  thought  that  my  mouth  was  full  of  blood. 
I  also  thought  my  face  and  my  whole  body  were  covered  with  it, 
as  though  the  Lord  had  just  shed  it.  It  seemed  warm  to  me  and 
made  me  feel  excessively  tender.  And  the  Lord  said  to  me: 
" Daughter,  it  is  My  will  that  My  blood  shall  profit  thee;  be  not 
afraid  that  My  mercy  will  fail  thee.  To  shed  this  blood  cost 
Me  great  pain,  and,  as  thou  seest,  thou  hast  the  fruition  of  it 
with  great  joy:  I  am  rewarding  thee  well  for  the  welcome  thou 
hast  given  Me  this  day."  This  He  said  because  for  more  than 

1  This  would  be  January  19,  1572.   The  stall  referred  to  is  still  in  existence  and 
Compline  is  solemnly  sung  each  year  in  commemoration  of  the  event. 

2  Dona  Maria  Velasco  y  Aragon,  Countess  of  Osorno.  The  picture  is  at  St.  Joseph's, 
Avila.  , 

sThis  incident  probably  occurred  at  the  Incarnation,  Avila,  in  1572,  though  the 
Carmelite  nuns  of  Paris  (Oeuores,  etc.,  II,  229)  and  some  other  writers  believe  that 
it  took  place  at  Salamanca  in  1571. 


XXVI-XXVIII]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  347 

thirty  years  I  had  communicated  on  that  day,  if  I  had  been 
able,  and  had  striven  to  prepare  my  soul  to  act  as  host  to  the 
Lord.  For  I  thought  the  Jews  had  acted  very  cruelly  to  Him 
in  letting  Him  go  so  far  for  His  food  after  giving  Him  so  great 
a  reception,  and  I  used  to  think  of  Him  as  staying  with  me — in 
a  poor  enough  inn,  as  I  now  see.  So  I  used  to  make  these  silly 
meditations — and  yet  the  Lord  must  have  accepted  them,  because 
this  is  one  of  the  visions  the  genuineness  of  which  I  regard  as 
most  certain,  and,  when  I  have  been  making  my  Communion, 
it  has  been  of  great  help  to  me. 

Before  this,  I  had  been — for  three  days,  I  believe — in  that 
great  distress,  which  I  feel  at  some  times  more  than  at  others, 
and  which  is  caused  by  absence  from  God.  During  these  days 
it  had  been  so  severe  that  I  had  thought  I  could  not  bear  it. 
I  was  feeling  quite  worn  out,  when  I  found  that  it  was  late  to 
take  my  evening  meal,  and  I  felt  I  could  not  do  so — for  the 
sickness  it  brings  on  when  I  do  not  take  it  early  makes  me  very 
weak.  However,  I  made  a  great  effort,  took  the  bread  and  was 
about  to  make  myself  eat  it,  when  suddenly  Christ  appeared 
to  me,  and  seemed  to  be  breaking  the  bread  and  making  ready 
to  put  it  into  my  mouth.  "Eat,  daughter,"  He  said  to  me, 
"and  bear  it  as  well  as  thou  canst.  Thy  sufferings  grieve  Me, 
but  it  is  good  for  thee  to  suffer  just  now."  Then  my  distress 
left  me  and  I  felt  comforted,  for  both  then  and  all  the  next  day 
He  seemed  to  be  really  with  me,  and  such  an  experience  as  that 
satisfies  one's  desire  for  the  time.  Those  words  "grieve  Me" 
made  me  better,  and  I  believe  there  is  nothing  now  that  can 
cause  me  distress. 

XXVII1 

"What  is  it  that  afflicts  thee,  little  sinner?  Am  I  not  thy 
God?  Seest  thou  not  how  ill  I  am  treated  here?  If  thou  lovest 
Me,  why  dost  thou  not  grieve  for  Me?" 

XXVIIP 

On  the  fear  of  wondering  if  one  is3  in  grace:  "Daughter,  light 
is  very  different  from  darkness.  I  am  faithful;  no  one  will  be  lost 
without  knowing  it.  Anyone  who  relies  on  spiritual  favours  will 
be  deceiving  himself.  True  security  is  the  witness  of  a  good 

1  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila:  May,  1572. 

2  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila:  1572. 

8  [The  words  translated  "if  one  is"  are  "si  no  estan"  ("if  they  are  not")].  They 
have  hitherto  been  printed  "si  estoy"  ["if  I  am"].  The  context  suggests  that  the 
Saint  is  tVii^Vrngr  of  other  persons  in,  whom  she  is  interested,  not  of  herself.  [Her 
use  of  pronouns,  however,  being  somewhat  erratic,  I  incline  to  the,  rendering  "one'""1 


348  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [XXVIII-XXIX 

conscience.  Let  no  one  think  that  of  himself  he  can  dwell  in 
the  light,  any  more  than  that  he  can  hinder  night  from  coming, 
for  grace  depends  on  Me.  The  best  remedy  that  he  can  have 
against  being  shut  out  from  the  light  is  to  know  that  he  is  power- 
less and  that  light  comes  to  him  from  Me:  even  if  he  is  in  the 
light,  night  will  come  the  instant  I  withdraw.  This  is  true  humility 
— for  the  soul  to  know  what  it  can  do  itself  and  what  I  can  do. 
Fail  not  to  write  down  the  counsels  that  I  give  thee,  lest  thou 
forget  them.  Thou  desirest  to  have  in  writing  the  counsels1  of 
men:  why  dost  thou  suppose  thou  art  wasting  time  in  writing 
down  those  that  I  give  thee?  The  time  will  come  when  thou 
shalt  need  them  all." 

XXIX1 

On  explaining  .to  me  the  nature  of  Union:  "Think  not, 
daughter,  that  being  very  close  to  Me  is  union,  for  those  who 
offend  Me  are  also  very  close  to  Me,  though  against  their  will 
Nor  in  many  cases  are  favours  and  consolations  in  prayer, 
though  of  the  highest  kind  and  coming  from  Me,  means  of 
winning  souls  not  in  grace."  When  I  heard  this  my  spirit  was 
highly  exalted.  The  Lord  then  explained  to  me  the  nature  of 
the  spirit  and  the  condition  of  the  soul  when  the  spirit  is  exalted, 
and  taught  me  how  to  understand  the  words  of  the  Magnificat : 
"Exultavit  spiritus  meus."2  I  cannot  possibly  repeat  all  this 
but  I  believe  He  explained  to  me  that  the  spirit  was  the  higher 
part  of  the  will. 

To  return  to  union:  I  understood  that  the  spirit  in  union  is 
pure  and  lifted  up  above  everything  earthly,  and  that  there  is 
nothing  remaining  in  it  that  will  depart  from  the  will  of  God, 
but  that  the  spirit  and  the  will  are  in  conformity  with  His  will, 
and  detached  from  everything,  and  occupied  in  God  so  as  to 
leave  no  recollection  of  love  of  self  or  of  any  created  thing.  I 
thought  that,  if  this  is  union,  we  can  say  at  once  that  a  soul  which 
always  adheres  to  that  resolution  is  always  in  the  Prayer  of 
Union;  yet  it  is  true  that  the  union  itself  can  last  only  for  a  very 
short  time.  It  occurs  to  me  that,  so  far  as  walking  in  righteousness, 
winning  merits  and  gaining  benefits  are  concerned,  it  will  be 
so,  but  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  soul  is  united  as  it  is  in  con- 
templation. I  seemed  to  understand,  though  this  was  not  con- 
veyed to  me  in  words,  that  such  are  the  dust  of  our  wretchedness 
and  the  faults  and  bad  habits  in  which  we  immerse  ourselves 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  live  in  such  purity  as  the  spirit 

1  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila,  1572. 

*  St.  Luke  i,  47:  "My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord."    The  Avila  codex  reads: 
Exultabit  .   .   . 


XXIX-XXXII]  SPIRITUAL   RELATIONS  349 

enjoys  when  united  with  the  Spirit  of  God  and  is  carried  out 
of  our  wretched  misery  and  raised  high  above  it.  To  me  it  seems 
that,  if  this  is  union,  our  will  and  spirit  are  made  so  nearly  one 
with  God  that  this  is  not  possible  save  to  those  in  a  state  of 
grace;  though  I  have  been  told  that  it  is.  It  seems  to  me,  then, 
that  it  must  be  very  difficult  to  know  when  the  soul  is  in  union, 
except  by  the  special  grace  of  God,  and  no  one  can  know  if  he 
is  in  a  state  of  grace  or  not. 

Your  Reverence  must  tell  me  in  writing  what  you  think  of 
this  and  where  I  am  in  error,  and  send  me  back  this  paper.1 

XXX2 

I  had  read  in  a  book  that  it  was  an  imperfection  to  have  nice 
pictures,  so  I  did  not  want  to  keep  one  which  I  had  in  my  cell. 
Even  before  reading  this  I  had  thought  it  a  sign  of  poverty 
to  have  no  pictures  other  than  paper  ones;  and  ever  since  then 
I  have  not  wanted  pictures  of  any  other  kind.  Once,  however, 
when  I  was  not  thinking  of  this  at  all,  I  heard  the  Lord  say  that 
this  mortification  was  not  good.  For  which,  He  asked  me,  was 
better:  poverty  or  charity?  If  love  was  better,  I  must  not  give 
up  anything  that  awakened  love  in  me,  nor  take  any  such  thing 
from  my  nuns — and  the  book  spoke  of  nice  devices  and  adorn- 
ments in  images,  and  not  of  images  or  pictures  in  themselves. 
What  the  devil  was  doing  with  the  Lutherans  was  taking  from 
them  all  means  of  awakening  greater  love,  so  that  they  were 
being  lost.  "My  Christians,  daughter,"  He  added,  "must  now, 
more  than  ever,  do  the  reverse  of  what  the  Lutherans  do."  I 
understood  that  I  was  under  great  obligation  to  serve  Our  Lady 
and  Saint  Joseph,  because  often,  when  I  was  going  in  quite  the 
wrong  direction,  God  would  hear  their  prayers  and  restore  me 
to  health  again. 

XXXIs 

On  the  Octave  day  of  Pentecost,  the  Lord  granted  me  a  favour 
and  gave  me  hope  that  this  house — I  mean  the  souls  in  it — would 
continue  to  make  progress.  » 

XXXII4 

On  Saint  Mary  Magdalen's  Day,  the  Lord  confirmed  in  me 
a  favour  which  He  had  bestowed  on  me  in  Toledo,  causing 

1  Cf  Ribera,  IV,  xx.   These  last  words  seem  to  indicate  that  she  had  sent  the 
Relation  to  one  of  her  confessors  of  that  period. 
*  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila:  1572. 
8  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila. 
4  Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila:  July  22,  1572.   Cf.  Yepes,  I,  xix. 


350  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [XXXII-XXXIII 

me,  in  the  absence  of  a  certain  person,  to  be  elected  in  that 
person's  place. 

XXXIII1 

One  day,  after  the  feast  of  Saint  Matthew,  I  was  in  my  usual 
state,  following  a  vision  of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity  which  showed 
me  how  It  is  with  the  soul  that  is  in  a  state  of  grace.  This  I 
was  given  to  understand  very  clearly,  in  such  a  way  that,  by 
mean?  of  certain  methods  and  comparisons,  I  saw  it  in  an 
imaginary  vision.  And  although  on  other  occasions  the  Most 
Holy  Trinity  has  been  revealed  to  me  through  an  intellectual 
vision,  the  truth  has  not  remained  with  me  for  several  days — 
as  it  has  done  this  time,  I  mean — so  that  I  can  think  of  it  and 
find  comfort  in  it.  Now  I  realize  that  this  is  exactly  what  I  have 
been  taught  by  learned  men,  but  I  have  never  understood  it 
as  I  do  now,  although  I  always  believed  it  without  hesitation, 
for  I  have  never  had  any  temptations  with  regard  to  the  Faith. 

All  we  ignorant  people  think  of  the  Three  Persons  of  the  Most 
Holy  Trinity  as  being  in  One  Person,  just  as  in  pictures,  in  which 
we  see  one  body  painted  with  three  fac$s;  and  this  astonishes  us 
so  much  that  it  seems  an  impossibility  and  none  of  us  dares  to 
think  of  it,  lest  the  understanding  should  grow  muddled  and 
afraid  it  may  become  doubtful  about  the  truth  of  it;  and  so 
we  lose  a  great  blessing. 

The  revelation  which  I  have  received  consists  of  Three  distinct 
Persons,  each  of  Whom  can  be  seen  by  Himself  and  each  of 
Whom  Himself  speaks.  Since  then  I  have  been  thinking  that 
the  Son  alonet  took  human  flesh,  through  which  this  truth  is 
made  manifest.  These  Persons  have  mutual  love,  communica- 
tion and  knowledge,  each  in  relation  to  the  rest.  If,  then,  each 
Person  is  One  by  Himself,  how  do  we  say,  and  believe,  that  all 
Three  are  One  Essence — and  this  is  a  very  profound  truth: 
I  would  die  a  thousand  deaths  in  defence  of  it?  In  all  Three 
Persons  there  is  not  more  than  one  will  and  one  power  and  one 
dominion,  so  that  none  of  Them  can  do  anything  without 
Another;  so,  however  many  creatures  there  may  be,  there  is 
only  One  Creator.  Could  the  Son  create  an  ant  without  the 
Father?  No,  for  Their  power  is  all  one;  and  the  same  is  true 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  so  that  there  is  One  Almighty  God,  and  all 
Three  Persons  comprise  One  Majesty.  Could  we  love  the  Father 
without  loving  the  Son  and  the  Holy  Spirit?  No,  for  whoever 
pleases  One  of  these  Three  Divine  Persons  pleases  all  Three; 
and  equally  so  with  whoever  offends  Them.  Could  the  Father 

1  September  22,  1572. 


XXXIII-XXXV]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  351 

exist  without  the  Son  and  without  the  Holy  Spirit?  No,  for 
there  is  One  Essence,  and,  where  the  One  is,  there  are  all  the 
Three,  for  They  are  indivisible.  How  is  it,  then,  that  we  see 
the  Three  Persons  divided,  and  how  came  it  that  the  Son  took 
human  flesh  and  not  the  Father  or  the  Holy  Spirit?  This  I  have 
not  been  able  to  grasp,  but  it  is  known  to  the  theologians.  I 
am  well  aware  that,  when  that  marvellous  work  was  done,  all 
Three  were  there  and  I  do  not  busy  myself  in  thinking  a  great  deal 
about  it.  Finally,  my  thoughts  lead  me  to  this  conclusion: 
God  is  almighty;  His  power  has  equalled  His  will;  and  so  He 
can  do  everything  that  pleases  Him.  The  less  I  understand 
this,  the  more  I  believe  it  and  the  greater  is  the  devotion  it 
arouses  in  me.  Blessed  be  He  for  ever!  Amen. 


XXXIV 

If  Our  Lord  had  not  bestowed  on  me  the  favours  He  has, 
I  should  not,  I  think,  have  had  the  courage  to  perform  the 
works  I  have,  nor  strength  to  endure  the  trials  and  oppositions 
and  criticisms  that  I  have.  And  so,  since  beginning  my  founda- 
tions, I  have  lost  the  fears,  which  had  previously  troubled  me, 
when  I  thought  I  was  suffering  from  delusions,  and  I  have 
become  certain  that  it  was  all  the  work  of  God.  This  led  me 
to  fling  myself  into  difficult  enterprises,  though  I  always  acted 
on  advice  and  under  obedience.  From  this  I  realize  that,  when 
Our  Lord  was  pleased  to  inspire  the  beginning  of  this  Order, 
and  of  His  mercy  made  me  the  means  of  this,  His  Majesty  had 
to  supply  all  I  lacked,  which  was  everything,  so  that  my  labours 
should  be  effective,  and  that  His  greatness  should  be  the  more 
clearly  manifested  in  one  so  wicked  as  I. 

XXXV1 

When  I  was  at  theJncarnation,  during  the  second  year  I  was 
Prioress  there,  on  the  octave-day  of  Saint  Martin,  I  was  making 
my  communion,  and  the  Father,  Fray  John  of  the  Cross2,  who 
\^as  giving  me  the  Most  Holy  Sacrament,  divided  the  Host 
between  another  sister  and  myself.  I  thought  he  was  doing  this, 
not  for  lack  of  Hosts,  but  because  he  wanted  to  mortify  me, 
for  I  had  told  him  that  I  was  very  pleased  when  the  Hosts  were 
large  ones,  though  I  knew  I  should  be  receiving  the  Lord,  whole 
and  entire,  if  I  took  only  the  smallest  particle.  "Have  no  fear, 

^Convent  of  the  Incarnation,  Avila:  mid-November,  1572. 
2  St.  John  of  the  Cross  had  been  confessor  to  the  Incarnation  since  the  May  of  that 
year. 


352  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [XXXV-XXXVJ 

daughter/'  His  Majesty  said  to  me,  "that  anyone  will  be  able 
to  part  thee  from  Me."  By  this  He  gave  me  to  understand  that 
it  was  of  no  moment. 

Then  He  revealed  Himself  to  me,  in  an  imaginary  vision, 
most  interiorly,  as  on  other  occasions,  and  He  gave  me  His 
right  hand,  saying  to  me:  " Behold  this  nail.  It  is  a  sign  that 
from  to-day  onward  thou  shalt  be  My  bride.  Until  now,  thou 
hadst  not  merited  this;  but  henceforward  thou  shalt  regard  My 
honour  not  only  as  that  of  thy  Creator  and  King  and  God  but 
as  that  of  My  very  bride.  My  honour  is  thine,  and  thine,  Mine." 
This  favour  produced  such  an  effect  upon  me  that  I  could  not 
restrain  myself  but  became  like  a  person  who  is  foolish,  and 
begged  the  Lord  either  to  exalt  my  lowliness  or  to  show  me 
fewer  favours,  for  I  really  did  not  think  my  nature  could  endure 
them.  For  the  whole  of  that  day  I  remained  completely  absorbed. 
Since  then  I  have  been  conscious  of  receiving  great  benefits  and 
of  still  greater  confusion  and  distress  when  I  see  that  in  exchange 
for  such  great  favours  I  am  doing  nothing.1 

XXXVP 

On  another  day  the  Lord  said  this  to  me:  "Thinkest  thou, 
daughter,  that  merit  consists  in  fruition?  Merit  consists  only  in 
working  and  suffering  and  loving.  Thou  hast  never  heard  that 
Saint  Paul  had  fruition  of  heavenly  joys  more  than  once.  Yet 
how  many  times  he  suffered!  Thou  seest  that  My  whole  life 
was  full  of  suffering;  yet  only  once,  on  Mount  Tabor,  hast  thou 
heard  of  My  having  had  fruition.  Think  not,  when  thou  seest 
My  Mother  holding  Me  in  her  arms,  that  she  experienced  those 
joys  without  also  experiencing  heavy  sorrows.  Ever  since  Simeon 
spoke  those  words  to  her,  My  Father  gave  her  clear  light,  so 
that  she  should  see  what  I  had  to  suffer.  The  great  Saints  who 
lived  in  the  deserts,  being  led  by  God,  performed  heavy  penances, 
and,  in  addition  to  this,  waged  great  battles  with  the  devil  and 
with  themselves,  and  went  through  long  periods  without  any 
spiritual  consolation.  Believe  me,  daughter:  it  is  to  those  whom 
My  Father  loves  most  dearly  that  He  sends  the  greatest  trials; 
for  love  and  trials  go  together.  How  can  I  better  show  thee  My 
love  than  in  willing  for  thee  what  I  willed  for  Myself?  Behold 
these  wounds:  thy  pains  will  never  be  as  great  as  those  they 
caused  Me.  This  is  the  path  of  truth.  Thus  shalt  thou  help 
Me  to  weep  for  the  perdition  which  worldly  folk  are  bringing 
upon  themselves,  for  thou  knowest  that  th$y  expend  all  their 

1  Cf.  Ribera,  Bk.  IV,  Chap,  X. 

8  This  probably  took  place  at  the  Incarnation,  Avila,  in  1572. 


XXXVI-XXXVIII]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  353 

desires  and  cares  and  thoughts  upon  travelling  in  the  reverse 
direction."  When  I  had  begun  to  pray,  my  head  had  been 
aching  so  much  that  I  thought  it  would  be  impossible  to  con- 
tinue. Then  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "Herein  shalt  thou  see  the 
reward  of  suffering :  as  thy  health  was  so  bad  that  thou  couldst 
not  speak  with  Me,  I  have  spoken  with  thee  and  comforted  thee." 
And  thus  indeed  it  was :  I  remained  in  a  state  of  recollection  for 
a  long  time — it  can  have  been  little  less  than  an  hour  and  a  half 
— and  it  was  during  this  time  that  He  spoke  the  words  I  have 
set  down,  and  a  great  many  more.  I  suffered  no  distraction, 
and  I  had  no  idea'  where  I  was,  but  my  happiness  was  indes- 
cribably great  and  my  headache  disappeared — I  was  amazed 
by  it  all  and  yearned  for  suffering.  It  is  quite  true  that  I  at 
least  have  never  heard  that  either  the  Lord  or  Saint  Paul  had 
any  other  joy  in  their  lives  than  on  the  occasions  to  which  He 
referred.  He  also  told  me  to  keep  very  carefully  in  mind  the 
words  which  the  Lord  addressed  to  His  Apostles  when  He  told 
them  that  "the  servant  had  not  to  be  greater  than  the  Lord."1 

XXXVII 

•  I  saw  a  great  storm  of  trials2  and  the  Egyptians  persecuting 
the  children  of  Israel:  even  so  should  we  have  to  be  persecuted, 
but  God  would  bring  us  over  dry-shod  and  our  enemies  would 
be  swallowed  up  in  the  waves. 

XXXVIII3 

One  day,  when  I  was  in  the  convent  at  Beas,  Our  Lord  told 
me  that,  as  I  was  His  bride,  I  must  make  requests  of  Him, 
and  promised  to  grant  me  all  I  asked  Him.  And,  as  a  pledge 
of  this,  He  gave  me  a  beautiful  ring,  with  a  stone  after  the  fashion 
of  an  amethyst,  but  with  a  brightness  very  different  from  that 
of  earthly  stones,  and  this  stone  He  put  on  my  finger.  I  write 
this  to  niy  own  confusion,  seeing  the  goodness  of  God  and  my 
own  wicked  life,  for  which  I  have  deserved  to  be  in  hell.  Ah* 
daughters!  commend  me  to  God  and  be  devoted  to  Saint  Joseph, 
who  can  do  a  great  deal.  I  write  -this  foolishness.  .  .  . 

1  St.  John  xiii,  16. 

2  [An  evident  allusion  to  the  persecution  of  the  Reform  by  the  Observance.    For 
a  fuller  commentary,  see  Marfa  de.  San  Jose"  •  Libro  de  recreaciones,  p  94,  cit.  P.  Silveno, 
II,  66.] 

3  This  Relation,  taken  from  a  sixteenth-century  manuscript  (not  an  autograph) 
belonging  to  the  Discalced  Carmelite  nuns  of  Saragossa,  was  first  published  in  1 757. 
The  Beas  foundation  was  made  in  February  1575,  which  [as  the  Foundress  went  on 
to  Seville  in  May]  would  therefore  be  the  approximate  date  of  the  incident  referred  to. 
[The  following  Relation,  it  will  be  observed,  is  dated  at  Beas,  April  1575]. 


354  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [XXXIX 


XXXIX* 

In  the  year  1575,  during  the  month  of  April,  when  I  was 
at  work  on,  the  Beas  foundation.  Fray  Jerommo  de  la  Madre 
de  Dios  Gracian  happened  to  make  a  visit  there.  I  made  my 
confession  to  him  several  times,  though  I  did  not  put  him  in 
the  place  of  my  other  confessors,  or  allow  myself  to  be  directed 
by  him  entirely.  One  day,  when  I  was  at  a  meal,  and  was  in 
no  way  interiorly  recollected,  my  soul  began  to  experience  a 
suspension  and  recollection  of  such  a  kind  that  I  thought  some 
rapture  was  coming  upon  me,  and  I  saw  this  vision,  which  lasted 
but  the  usual  brief  space  of  time — that  of  a  lightning-flash.  I 
thought  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  near  me,  in  the  form  in 
which  His  Majesty  is  wont  to  reveal  Himself  to  me;  on  His 
right  hand  was  Master  Gracian,  while  I  was  on  His  left.  The 
Lord  took  our  right  hands,  joined  them  and  told  me  that  He 
wished  me  to  take  him  in  place  of  Himself  for  my  whole  life 
long,  and  that  we  were  to  agree  together  in  everything,  for  it 
was  expedient  that  we  should.  I  was  left  with  a  feeling  of  complete 
certainty  that  this  was  the  voice  of  God,  though  I  thought  of 
two  of  my  confessors  whom  I  had  had  for  a  long  time,  whose 
counsels  I  had  followed  and  to  whom  I  owed  a  great  deal,  and 
this  thought  produced  a  prolonged  resistance  in  me,  especially 
as  regards  one  of  them,  for  I  thought  I  should  be  offending  him, 
and  I  bore  him  a  great  respect  and  love.  Still,  I  felt  certain 
that  this  was  the  right  thing  for  me  to  do  and  greatly  relieved  to 
think  that  at  last  I  had  done  with  hesitating  between  the  opinions 
of  different  persons,  some  of  whom,  through  not  understanding 
me,  caused  me  grievous  suffering,  though  I  never  gave  any  of 
them  up,  thinking  that  it  would  be  wrong  of  me  to  do  so  until 
they  and  I  parted.  On  two  other  occasions  the  Lord  repeated 
that  I  was  not  to  be  afraid,  and,  using  different  words  each  time, 
said  that  this  came  from  Him.  So  I  determined  not  to  swerve, 
from  His  command  but  to  observe  it  for  as  long  as  I  lived, 
following  Father  Gracian's  opinion  in  everything,  provided  it 
was  not  markedly  in  opposition  to  the  will  of  God,  and  I  am 
quite  sure  it  never  will  be.  For,  to  judge  by  several  things  I  have 
heard,  I  believe  his  aim  is  the  same  as  mine — to  follow  what 
is  most  perfect  in  everything;  and  so  I  have  had  such  peace  and 
relief  that  it  has  both  amazed  me  and  convinced  me  that  this 
was  the  Lord's  will,  for  I  do  not  believe  this  great  peace  and 
comfort  could  have  been  put  into  my  soul  by  the  devil.  It 
abides  within  me  in  a  way  I  cannot  describe,  and,  whenever  it 

1  The  autograph  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Djscalced  Carmelite  nuns  at  Consuegra. 


XXXIX- XL]      SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  -355 

recurs  to  my  mind,  I  praise  Our  Lord  anew.  And  I  remember 
that  verse  which  says:  "Qui  posuit  fines  suos  pacem."1  And  I 
wish  I  could  melt  away  in  praising  God.  I  think  it  must  be  for 
His  glory  and  so  once  more  I  register  the  resolve  never  to  act 
otherwise. 


XL* 

On  the  second  day  of  the  festival  of  Pentecost,  after  I  had 
made  this  resolution,  I  went  to  Seville  and  we  heard  Mass  in 
a  hermitage  at  Ecija,  and  remained  there  for  the  period  of  the 
siesta. 3  My  companions  were  in  the  hermitage  and  I  was  alone 
in  a  sacristy  there  when  I  began  to  think  of  the  great  favour 
which  the  Holy  Spirit  had  once  granted  me  on  a  vigil  of  that 
same  festival4  and  this  gave  me  great  desires  to  render  Him  some 
outstanding  service.  But  I  could  think  of  nothing  which  had 
;not  already  been  done.  Then  I  remembered  that,  although  I 
had  taken  the  vow  of  obedience,  I  had  not  kept  it  as  perfectly 
as  I  might  have  done,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  it  would 
please  God  if  I  promised  Him  to  do  what  I  had  already  resolved, 
with  regard  to  the  Father  Fray  Jeronimo.  On  the  other  hand, 
that  seemed  to  me  like  doing  nothing  at  all;  but  then  again  I 
reflected  that  I  was  imposing  a  heavy  burden  upon  myself, 
seeing  that  we  do  not  reveal  our  spiritual  lives  to  our  superiors, 
and  that,  after  all,  these  superiors  change,  and,  if  one  of  them 
does  not  get  on  well,  he  is  succeeded  by  another.  I  realized  that, 
if  I  made  this  promise,  I  should  have  no  freedom,  interior  or 
exterior,  for  all  the  rest  of  my  life. 

This  thought  weighed  with  me  a  little — in  fact,  a  great  deal — 
against  doing  it.  Then  the  very  resistance  which  it  caused  in 
my  will  made  me  feel  ashamed,  for,  I  thought,  here  is  something 
which  I  have  not  been  doing  for  God,  and,  now  that  it  suggests 
itself,  I  am  running  away  from  it.  The  fact  is,  the  difficulty 
weighs*  on  me  so  much  that  I  feel  I  have  never  in  my  life  done 
anything,  or  made  any  profession,  that  caused  me  more  repug- 
nance, save  when  I  left  my  father's  hopse  to  become  9,  nun. 
The  reason  was  that  I  did  not  reflect  how  much  I  loved  him;5- 
indeed,  I  was  not  thinking  of  him  at  all,  or  of  his  talents,  but 
only  if  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  me  to  do  this  for  the  Holy 
Spirit's  sake. 

1  Psalm  cxivii,  3  [A.V.,  advii,  14] :  "Whp  hath  placed  peace  in  thy  borders." 
*May  23,   1575-    The  autograph  belongs  to  the  Discalced  Carmelite  nuns  at 
Consuegra. 

8  Some  copies  read  festa  [festival]  but  the  autograph  has,  quite  clearly,  siesta. 
*Life,  Chap.  XXXVIII  (pp.  270-1,  above). 
5  [I.e.,  P.  Grecian], 


356  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [XL-XLI 

I  think  the  reason  for  my  hesitation  lay  in  the  doubts  which 
kept  coining  to  me  as  to  whether  this  would  be  a  service  to  God 
or  no.  After  I  had  gone  through  a  short  period  of  conflict,  the 
Lord  gave  me  great  confidence,  and  I  realized  that  it  was  for  the 
Holy  Spirit  that  I  was  making  that  promise  and  He  would  be 
bound  to  give  him  light  so  that  he  in  turn  might  enlighten  me. 
I  also  remembered  that  he  had  been  given  me  by  Jesus  Christ 
Our  Lord.  Thereupon  I  went  down  on  my  knees  and  promised 
God  to  do  whatever  he  ordered  me  all  my  life  long,  so  long  as 
it  was  not  against  the  will  of  God  or  of  the  superiors  whom  I 
was  already  bound  to  obey.  In  order  to  save  myself  from  scruples, 
I  made  the  reservation  that  my  vow  had  reference  only  to  serious 
matters — I  should  not  be  breaking  it,  for  example,  by  importuning 
him  about  something  when  he  had  told  me  not  to  refer  to  it  again, 
nor  would  it  apply  to  things  concerning  my  convenience  and  his, 
for  these  are  trivialities,  though  even  here  one  does  not  want  to  fail 
in  obedience.  But  I  promised  that  of  all  my  faults  and  sins  I 
would  not  knowingly  conceal  from  him  a  single  one,  which  is 
more  than  one  does  with  one's  superiors.  I  promised,  in  fact,  that 
both  inwardly  and  outwardly  I  would  put  him  in  the  place  of 
God. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  gained  further  merit  by  this:  it  seemed  to 
me  a  great  thing  to  have  done  this  for  the  Holy  Spirit,  for  at 
least  I  had  done  all  I  could.  And  so  I  was  left  with  a  great 
satisfaction  and  joy,  which  has  been  with  me  ever  since.  Whereas 
I  thought  I  should  find  my  promise  oppressive,  I  now  have 
greater  freedom  and  am  fully  confident  that  Our  Lord  will 
grant  him  new  favours  on  account  of  this  service  which  I  have 
rendered  Him,  in  which  favours  I  shall  have  a  share,  and  that 
in  everything  He  will  give  me  light.  Blessed  be  He  Who  has 
raised  up  someone  to  satisfy  my  needs  and  thus  given  me  the 
strength  to  venture  to  do  this. 

XLI1 

JESUS.  A  certain  person  who  was  at  Ecija  on  the  Feast  of 
Pentecost  remembered  a  great  favour  which  she  had  once 
received  from  Our  Lord  on  the  eve  of  that  festival,  and,  wishing 
to  do  some  very  special  thing  in  His  service,  thought  it  would 
be  a  good  idea  to  promise  from  that  moment  to  conceal  no 
fault  or  sin  that  she  had  done  in  her  whole  life  from  a  confessor 
who  stood  in  the  place  of  God  to  her.  For  a  nun  has  no  such 

obligation,  even  to  her  superiors;  so,  although  that  person  had 

f 

1This  Relation  is  almost  identical  with  the  last.  We  have  it  in  a  manuscript 
certified  as  a  genuine  Relation  by  Gracian's  biographer,  Juan  Vdzquez  del  Mdrmol. 


XLI-XLIVJ        SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  357 

made  a  vow  of  obedience,  she  thought  this  would  be  something 
more.  She  also  promised  to  do  all  that  he  commanded  her — in 
serious  matters,  of  course — provided  it  were  not  a  sin  against 
the  obedience  to  which  she  had  vowed  herself.  Although  at 
first  she  found  it  very  hard  to  make  this  promise,  she  did  so. 
The  first  thing  which  made  her  resolve  to  do  this  was  the  realiza- 
tion that  she  was  rendering  a  service  to  the  Holy  Spirit.  The 
second  was  that  the  person  she  had  chosen  was  so  great  a  servant 
of  God  and  so  learned  a  man  that  he  would  give  her  soul  light 
and  help  her  the  better  to  serve  Our  Lord.  The  person  con- 
cerned— Fray  Jeronimo  Gracian  de  la  Madre  de  Dios — knew 
nothing  about  this  until  several  days  after  the  promise  had  been 
made. 

XLIP 

On  the  day  of  the  Magdalen  I  was  thinking  of  the  friendship 
with  the  Lord  which  I  am  bound  to  have  in  accordance  with 
the  words  which  He  has  addressed  to  me  about  this  Saint. 
I  had  great  desires  to  imitate  her  and  the  Lord  granted  me  a 
great  favour  and  told  me  that  if  I  strove  hard  from  now  onward 
I  should  serve  Him  more  than  I  had  done  previously.  He  gave 
me  the  desire  not  to  die  so  quickly,  so  that  I  might  have  time 
to  spend  in  doing  this,  and  I  was  left  with  a  firm  resolve  to 
suffer. 

XLIII* 

I  was  deeply  recollected  one  day  and  commending  Eliseus3 
to  God.  I  heard  these  words:  "He  is  My  true  son:  I  will  not 
fail  to  help  him";  or  some  words  of  that  kind  which  I  cannot 
exactly  remember. 

XLIV4 

On  the  vigil  of  Saint  Lawrence,  I  had  just  communicated 
and  my  mind  was  so  distraught  and  heedless  that  I  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  I  began  to  envy  those  who  lived  in  the  deserts, 
supposing  that,  as  they  neither  heard  nor  saw  anything,  they 
were  free  from  distractions,  I  heard  these  words:  "Thou  art 
greatly  in  error,  daughter:  the  fact  is,  the  devils  tempt  them  more 
severely.  Have  patience;  for  as  long  as  thou  livest  thou'wilt  be 
unable  to  escape  from  this."  While  this  was  going  on,  I  sud- 
denly became  recollected,  and  saw  a  great  Kght  within  me,  so 

1  Seville   July  22,  1575. 

2  Seville.    From  Marmol. 

a  This  was  the  name  which  the  Saint  gave  to  P.  Gracian  when  writing  about  him. 
*  Seville:  August  9,  1575. 


358  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [XLIV-XLVI 

that  I  thought  I  was  in  another  world,  and  my  spirit  found 
itself  inwardly  in  a  most  delightful  rustic  garden,  so  lovely  that 
it  recalled  to  my  mind  those  words  in  the  Songs:  "  Veniat  dilectus 
meus  in  hortum  suum."1  I  saw  my  Eliseus  there,  looking  not 
in  the  least  unattractive2  but  having  a  strange  beauty;  around 
his  head  he  had  a  garland  of  precious  stones.  And  walking 
before  him  were  many  maidens,  with  palms  in  their  hands,  all 
singing  hymns  of  praise  to  God.  I  kept  opening  my  eyes  to 
see  if  the  vision  would  leave  me,  but  that  was  not  sufficient 
to  distract  my  attention:  there  seemed  also  to  be  music  made 
by  birds  and  angels,  in  which,  although  I  could  not  hear  it, 
my  soul  rejoiced,  as  it  shared  in  that  delight.  Then  I  saw  that 
there  was  no  other  human  being  there.  And  it  was  said  to  me: 
"This  man  has  deserved  to  be  among  you  all,  and,  on  the  day 
which  he  shall  fix,  this  great  festival  which  thou  seest  will  take 
place  in  praise  of  My  Mother.  Make  haste,  then,  if  thou  wilt 
reach  the  place  where  he  is."  This  lasted  for  over  an  hour  and 
a  half,  and,  as  seldom  happens  with  visions,  I  could  not  take 
my  eyes  from  it,  so  great  was  my  delight  What  I  gained  from 
this  vision  was  love  for  Eliseus  and  I  came  to  picture  him  more 
frequently  amid  that  beauty.  I  have  had  my  fears  that  it  might 
have  been  a  temptation,  for  imagination  it  could  not  possibly 
have  been, 

XLV3 

On  one  occasion  I  learned  how  the  Lord  is  in  all  things,  and 
how  He  is  in  the  soul,  and  the  comparison  suggested  itself  to 
me  of  a  sponge  absorbing  water* 


XLVI 

There  is  one  of  my  brothers  to  whom  I  owe  so  much  that, 
when  they  came  to  see  me,*  I  did  not  leave  him,  but  talked 
with  him,  as  was  fitting,  about  his  soul  and  his  state,  and  it  all 
made  me  very  tired  and  distressed.  And,  as  I  was  offering  this 
to  the  Lord  and  thinking  to  myself  that  I  was  doing  it  because 

1  Canticles  v,  i :  "Let  my  beloved  come  into  his  garden." 

a[A«gro.  Lit.  "black."  A  reference,  I  take  it,  to  Canticles  i,  4,  which  contrasts 
outward  unattractiveness  -with  inward  beauty] 

9  Seville:  1575. 

*  St.  Teresa's  brothers  Lorenzo  and  Pedro  returned  from  the  Indies  at  the  beginning 
of  August  1575.  Landing  at  Sanlucar  de  Barrameda,  they  travelled  to  Seville,  where 
they  met  St.  Teresa  and  also  Dona  Juana  and  her  husband,  who  had  come  from  Alba 
de  Tonnes  to  greet  them.  Cf.  Foundations s  Chap*  XXV  (Vol.  Ill,  p.  130,  below). 
With  Don  Lorenzo,  the  brother  to  whom  she  owed  so  much  (Life,  Chap.  XXXIII, 
p.  229,  above),  came  his  three  children,  Francisco,  Lorenzo  and  Teresita. 


XLVI-XLVIIIJ     SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  359 

of  my  obligations,  I  remembered  that  in  our  Constitutions  we 
are  told  to  turn  from  our  kinsfolk.1  I  then  began  to  wonder  if 
I  had  any  such  obligation,  when  the  Lord  said  to  me:  "No, 
daughter,  your  institutions  must  never  fail  to  be  in  conformity 
\tfith  My  law."  The  truth  is  that  the  Constitutions  mean  us 
not  to  be  attached  to  our  kinsfolk;  it  rather  wearies  me,  I  think, 
to  be  so  and  it  wears  me  out  when  I  have  much  to  do  with  them. 


XLVIP 

On  Saint  Augustine's  Day,  I  had  just  communicated,  when 
I  was  enabled  to  learn,  and  almost  to  see — in  what  way  I  cannot 
tell,  unless  it  was  by  an  intellectual  vision  which  passed  quickly — 
how  the  Three  Persons  of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity,  Whom  I  bear 
engraven  on  my  soul,  are  One.  This  truth  I  was  enabled  to 
learn  by  means  of  so  remarkable  a  picture,  and  so  clear  a  light, 
that  it  has  worked  upon  me  very  differently  than  if  I  had  merely 
'known  it  by  faith.  Since  that  time  I  have  been  unable  to  think 
of  any  One  of  the  Three  Divine  Persons  without  realizing  that 
They  are  Three,  so  that  to-day,  when  I  was  considering  how, 
though  They  are  all  One,  the  Son  alone  had  taken  human  flesh, 
the  Lord  showed  me  how,  though  One,  They  are  distinct.  These 
are  wonders  which  make  the  soul  desire  afresh  to  escape  from 
the  shackles  of  the  body  which  impede  the  fruition  of  them. 
For  though  an  understanding  of  them  seems  not  to  be  for  our 
low  estate,  there  remains  to  the  soul,  after  the  momentary  passage 
of  the  vision,  a  benefit  incomparably  greater  than  any  that  can 
come  from  many  years  of  meditation,  and  yet  the  soul  cannot 
understand  how. 


XLVIIP 

I  am  specially  happy  on  the  day  of  the  Nativity  of  Our  Lady. 
I  have  thought  it  well,  whenever  this  day  comes  round,  to  renew 
my  vows;  and  once,  when.  I  was  about  to  do  this,  the  Virgin 
Our  Lady  was  represented  to  me  in  an  illuminative  vision.  I 
seemed  to  be  renewing  my  vows  to  her  and  she  was  pleased 
at  this.  This  vision  remained  with  me  for  some  days,  and  Our 
Lady  stayed  near  me,  on  my  left  hand. 

1  Cf.  Constitutions  [Vol.  Ill,  pp.  238-9,  below].* 

2  August  28,  1575*  probably  at  Seville.  (Ribera,  Bk.  IV,  Chap,  iy.) 
*  Seville:  September  8,  1575. 


360  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS         [XLIX-LI 


XLIX1 

One  day,  when  I  had  just  communicated',  I  thought  that  my 
soul  was  really  becoming  one  with  that  most  sacred  Body  of  the 
Lord,  Whose  presence  was  revealed  to  me:  this  had  a  marked 
effect  on  me  and  brought  me  great  profit. 


I  was  wondering  once  if  I  was  to  be  sent  to  reform  a  certain 
convent3  and  this  distressed  me.  I  heard  these  words:  "What 
do  ye  fear?  What  can  ye  lose  save  the  lives  which  ye  have  so 
often  offered  Me?  I  will  help  you."  This  occasion  served  to  give 
my  soul  deep  satisfaction. 

LI* 

Having  been  talking  one  day  with  a  person  who  had  given 
up  a  great  deal  for  God,  and  remembering  how  I  had  never 
given  up  anything  for  Him,  or  served  Him  at  all  in  the  way  I  am 
bound  to  do,  and  thinking  of  the  many  favours  which  He  has 
gratited  to  my  soul,  I  began  to  grow  very  troubled.  And  the  Lord 
said  to  me:  "Thou  knowest  of  the  betrothal  that  there  is  between 
thee  and  Me;  this  means  that  all  I  have  is  thine,  and  so  I  give 
thee  all  the  trials  and  pains  that  I  endured  and  thou  canst  ask 
of  My  Father  as  though  they  were  thine  own."  Though  I  have 
heard  it  said  that  we  are  partakers  in  these  trials,5  it  was  so 
different  now  that  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  acquired  some  great  new 
power,6  for  the  friendliness  with  which  He  bestowed  this  grace 
upon  me  cannot  here  be  described.  The  Father  seemed  to 
sanction  the  gift,  and  ever  since  then  I  have  looked  at  the  Lord's 
sufferings  in  a  very  different  way,  as  though  they  were  something 
of  my  own,  and  this  is  a  great  relief  to  me. 

1  J575:  probably  at  Seville. 

2  Seville.  1575- 

3  This  was  the  convent  of  the  Calced  Carmelites  at  Paterna  which  P.  Grarian 
wished  to  reform  and  to  free  from  the  calumnies  being  spread  against  it.   Gf.  his 
Peregrinacion  de  Anastosio,  Didlogo  I,  and  Maria  de  San  Jos6:  Ltbro  de  recreationes, 
p,  121  [cit.  P.  Silverio,  II,  76,  n]. 

*  Seville:  1575.    Ribera,  Bk.  IV,  Chap.  X-  Cf.  Interior  Castle,  VI,  v  [Vol.  II,  pp. 
294-5>  below]. 

5  [Presumably  a  reference  to  i  St.  Peter  iv,  13.] 

*  [Scftorfo.  i.e.,  power  in  the  sense  of  dominion,  not  in  that  of  strength.] 


LII-LV]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  361 

LII1 

Once,  when  I  was  wishing  I  could  do  something  in  Our  Lord's 
service,  I  considered  how  little  I  could  do  to  serve  Him,  and  I 
said  to  myself:  "Why,  Lord,  dost  Thou  desire  my  works?" 
He  answered:  "To  see  thy  good  will,  daughter." 

LIII2 

The  Lord  once  gave  me  light  about  something  which  I  was 
glad  to  understand,  but  immediately  afterwards  I  forgot  it  and 
have  never  been  able  to  remember  it  since.  While  I  was  try- 
ing to  recall  it,  I  heard  these  words:  "Thou  knowest  that  I  speak 
to  thee  sometimes.  Write  it  down  without  fail;  for,  though  it 
profit  thee  not,  it  may  profit  others."  I  was  wondering  if  for  my 
sins  it  was  to  be  my  lot  to  profit  others  and  be  lost  myself,  when 
He  said  to  me:  "Have  no  fear." 

LIV3 

Once  I  was  recollected  with  the  companionship  that  I  always 
have  in  my  soul,  when  I  felt  that  God  was  within  my  soul  in  such 
a  way  that  I  recalled  the  occasion  on  which  Saint  Peter  said: 
"Thou  art  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God."4  For  even  so 
was- the  living  God  in  my  soul.  This  is  not  like  other  visions, 
for  it  reinforces  faith,5  so  that  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  that  the 
Trinity  is,  by  presence,  power  and  essence,  within  our  souls. 
It  is  of  the  very  greatest  benefit  to  understand  this  truth.  I  was 
astounded  to  see  such  majesty  in  anything  as  lowly  as  my  soul. 
Then  I  heard  these  words:  "It  is  not  lowly,  daughter,  for  it  is 
made  in  My  image."  I  also  learned  several  things  about  the 
reason  why  God  delights  more  in  souls  than  in  other  things  He 
has  created;  these  things  were  so  subtle  that,  though  the  under- 
standing comprehended  them  quickly,  I  cannot  explain  them. 

LV« 

I  had  been  in  such  distress  at  the  bad  news  about  our  Father7 
that  I  had  no  rest.  One  day,  after  Communion,  I  was  making 

1  Seville:  1575. 

2  Seville:  1575. 

3  Seville:  1575'. 

4  St.  Matthew  xvi,  16. 

5  [The  original  verb  is  in  the  subjunctive,  but  the  general  sense  can  hardly  be  other 
than  this.] 

6  Seville:  1575. 

7  P.  Jer6nimo  Gracian. 


362  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS         [LV-LVII 

a  very  earnest  petition  to  Him  that,  as  He  had  given  him  to  me, 
I  should  not  be  deprived  of  him,  when  He  said  to  me:  "Have 
no  fear." 

LVI1 

I  once  had  such  great  light  from  that  presence  of  the  Three 
Persons  which  I  bear  in  my  soul  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
doubt  that  the  true  and  living  God  was  present,  and  I  then 
came  to  understand  things  which  I  shall  never  be  able  to  describe. 
One  of  these  was  how  human  flesh  was  taken  by  the  Person  of 
the  Son  and  not  by  the  other  Persons.  As  I  say,  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  explain  any  of  this,  for  there  are  some  things  which 
take  place  in  such  secret  depths  of  the  soul  that  the  understanding 
seems  to  comprehend  them  only  like  a  person  who,  though 
sleeping  or  half  asleep,  believes  he  is  understanding  what  is  being 
told  him.  I  was  thinking  hoy/  hard  it  was  to  live  on  when  living 
precludes  us  from  being  always  in  that  wonderful  companionship, 
and  I  said  to  myself:  "Lord,  give  me  some  means  whereby  I 
can  bear  this  life."  He  said  to  me:  "Think,  daughter,  that  after 
thy  life  is  over  thou  wilt  not  be  able  to  serve  Me  as  thou  canst 
now.  Eat  for  Me  and  sleep  for  Me  and  let  all  thou  doest  be  for 
Me,  as  though  it  were  not  thou  that  art  living  now  but  I,  which  is 
what  Saint  Paul  said."2 


LVIP 

One  day,  when  I  had  just  communicated,  I  w&s  shown  how  the 
most  sacred  Body  of  Christ  is  received  by  Has  Father  within  our 
soul.  So  now  I  understand  and  have  seen  how  these  Divine 
Persons  are  there,  and  how  pleasing  to  God  is  this  offering  of 
His  Son,  since  He  delights  and  rejoices  in  Him,  as  we  may  say, 
here  on  earth,  for  it  is  not  His  Humanity  that  is  with  us  in  the 
soul  but  His  Divinity,  and  it  is  for  that  reason  that  He  is  so  pleasing 
and  acceptable  to  Him  and  that  He  grants  us  such  great  favours, 
I  understood,  too,  that  He  accepts  this  sacrifice  even  though  the 
priest  be  in  sin,  but  that  the  favours  which  it  brings  are  not 
communicated  to  his  soul  as  they  are  to  the  souls  of  those  who  are 
in  grace.  It  is  not  that  these  gracious  influences,  which  proceed 
from  the  communion  in  which  the  Father  receives  this  sacrifice, 
lose  any  of  their  power,  but  that  he  who  is  to  receive  Him  is 
found  wanting;  just  as  it  is  not  the  fault  of  the  sun.  that  a  lump 

1  Seville:  1575.  Gf.  Rjbera,  Bk.  IV,  Chap.  IV. 

2  [Galatians  ii,  20.] 

3  Seville:  1575. 


LVII-LVIII]       SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  363 

of  pitch  does  not  reflect  its  rays  as  a  piece  of  crystal  does.  If  I 
could  describe  this  now,  I  should  be  better  able  to  explain 
myself:  it  is  important  to  know  how  it  happens,  for  there  are 
profound  interior  secrets  to  be  learned  when  we  communicate. 
It  is  sad  that  these  bodies  of  ours  prevent  us  from  having  the 
fruition  of  this. 


LVIII1 

During  the  Octave  of  All  Saints,  I  spent  two  or  three  days  in 
great  suffering  because  of  the  remembrance  of  my  heinous  sins., 
and  I  was  in  .sore  dread  of  persecution,  the  only  foundation  for 
which  was  that  grave  accusations  were  about  to  be  brought 
against  me  and  all  my  habitual  courage  to  suffer  for  God  failed 
me.  Though  I  tried  to  take  heart,  and  made  various  acts,  and 
saw  that  it  would  be  a  great  gain  to  my  soul,  I  profited  little, 
for  the  fear  never  left  me  and  it  was  a  hard  struggle.  I  came 
across  a  letter,  in  which  my  good  Father2  quotes  Saint  Paul  as 
saying  that  God  does  not  suffer  us  to  be  tempted  beyond  what 
we  are  able  to  bear. 3  That  was  a  great  relief  to  me,  but  it  was 
not  sufficient;  indeed,  on  the  next  day  I  was  greatly  distressed 
at  finding  myself  without  him,, for  I  had  no  one  to  betake  myself 
to  in  this  trouble,  and  I  seemed  to  be  living  in  very  great  loneliness. 
And  what  made  it  worse  was  that  I  find  no  one  else  who  can  give 
me  relief,  and  yet  for  the  most  part  he  has  to  be  away:  this  is  a 
very  great  torment  to  me. 

Later,  on  another  night,  when  reading  a  book,  I  found  another 
saying  of  Saint  Paul's,  which  began  to  comfort  me.  As  I  was 
enjoying  some  degree  of  recollection,  I  was  thinking  how  I  had 
previously  had  Our  Lord  present,  and  how  truly  He  seemed  to 
me  to  be  the  living  God.  While  I  was  thinking  about  this,  He 
spoke  to  me,  and  appeared  to  me  in  an  intellectual  vision,  in  the 
depths  of  my  being,  as  though  He  were  beside  my  heart.  "Here 
I  am,"  He  said,  "but  I  will  have  thee  see  how  little  thou  canst 
do  without  Me."4  Then  He  at  once  reassured  me  and  my  fears 
vanished.  That  very  night,  during  Matins,  the  Lord  Himself, 
in  an  intellectual  vision,  so  clear  that  it  seemed  almost  imaginary, 
laid  Himself  in  my  arms  in  the  way  depicted  in  the  "Fifth 
Anguish"  of  Our  Lady.6  This  vision  made  me  very  much  afraid; 

1  Seville:  1575.   Cf.  Foundations,  Chap.  XXV  (Vol.  Ill,  pp.  129,  ff.,  below). 
1  P.  Jer6nnno  Gracian. 

3  i  Corinthians  x,  13. 

4  MdrmoPs  copy,  which  has  been  followed  to  this  point,  ends  here,  and  for  the  rest 
of  the  Relation  we  must  follow  the  codices  of  Avila  and  Toledo 

s  This  "Fifth  Anguish"  (more  properly  the  Sixth)  represents  Mary  with  the  dead 
body  of  her  Son  in  her  arms.  The  term  is  used  principally  in  Andalusia. 


364  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS        [LVIII-LX 

so  clear  was  it  and  so  close  to  me  as  to  make  me  wonder  if  it  was  an 
illusion.  "Be  not  afraid  of  this/'  He  said  to  me,  "for  the  union 
of  My  Father  with  thy  soul  is  incomparably  greater  than  this." 
This  vision  has  remained  in  my  memory  right  until  now.  What 
I  have  said  about  Our  Lord  lasted  for  more  than  a  month.  It 
has  now  left  me. 

LIX1 

One  night  I  was  in  great  distress  because  for  so  long  I  had  had 
no  news  of  my  Father,  and  also  because  he  had  not  been  well 
when  he  last  wrote  to  me.  My  distress,  however,  was  not  like 
what  I  suffered  when  I  first  heard  of  his  trouble:  I  have  never 
known  any  distress  like  that.  This  time  I  had  more  confidence, 
though,  none  the  less,  my  anxiety  hindered  my  prayer.  Then 
suddenly  he  appeared  to  me.  It  could  not  have  been  imagination, 
for  I  became  conscious  of  an  inward  light  and  he  himself  was 
coming  gaily  along  the  road,  with  a  bright  countenance.  It 
must  have  been  the  light  which  I  saw  that  made  his  countenance 
bright,  for  this,  I  believe,  is  the  case  with  all  the  inhabitants 
of  Heaven,  and  I  have  wondered  if  the  brightness  of  their  coun- 
tenances is  due  to  the  splendour  and  light  proceeding  from  Our 
Lord.  Then  I  heard  these  words:  "Tell  him  to  begin  at  once 
and  not  to  be  afraid,  for  his  is  the  victory," 

One  day,  after  he  came,  when  I  was  praising  Our  Lord  in 
the  night-time  for  all  the  favours  He  had  granted  me,  He  said 
to  me:  "What  dost  thou  ask  of  Me  that  I  have  not  done,  my 
daughter?" 

LX2 

On  the  day  of  the  presentation  of  the  Brief,  as  I  was  in  a  state 
of  anxious  expectation,  which  unsettled  me  so  much  that  I  could 
not  even  pray,  for  they  had  come  to  tell  me  that  our  Father  was 
in  great  straits  through  not  being  allowed  to  leave,  and  that 
there  was  a  great  commotion,  I  heard  these  words:  "O  woman 
of  little  faith,  be  still;  things  are  going  on  very  well."  It  was  the 
Feast  of  the  Presentation  of  Our  Lady  in  the  year  1575.  I  thought 
to  myself  that  if  the  Virgin  prevailed  with  her  Son  and  we  were 

1  Seville:  November  1575.   The  "Father"  referred  to  is  again  P.  Gracian,  who 
describes  the  incident  in  Dialogue  XVI  of  his  Peregnnaadn  de  Anastasio  and  adds: 
"This  was  at  the  time  when  I  had  obtained  the  Brief  from  the  Nuncio  Ormaneto, 
together  with  letters  from  the  King  for  the  visitation  of  thedalced  Friars  in  Andalusia, 
and  I  was  coming  to  Seville  to  present  it.  I  had  been  ill,  though  not  very  seriously. " 

2  Seville:  November  21,   1575.    Gracian  (he    a/.)  confirms  that  the  Brief  was 
presented  on  this  day.  [Further  details,  from  Maria  4e  San  Jos6  and  Marxnol,  will 
be  found  in  P.  Silverio,  II,  82,  n  4  ] 


LX-LXIII]          SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  365 

enabled  to  see  our  Father  freed  from  these  friars,  we  would  ask 
him  to  ordain  that  this  festival  should  be  solemnly  celebrated 
in  our  Discalced  houses  every  year.  When  I  made  this  resolve, 
I  was  forgetting  what  I  had  heard  in  one  of  my  visions — that  this 
Father  would  establish  a  festival.  Now,  as  I  re-read  these  few 
lines,  I  have  wondered  if  this  is  the  festival  referred  to. 

LXI1 

When  in  prayer  one  day,  I  felt  that  my  soul  was  so  completely 
within  God  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  world  at  all,  but  that  I  was 
absorbed  in  Him.  It  was  then  that  I  was  taught  the  meaning 
of  that  verse  in  the  Magnificat:  "Et  exultavit  spiritus,"2  in  a  way 
that  I  cannot  forget. 

LXIP 

I  was  thinking  once  how  people  wanted  to  do  away  with  this 
Discalced  convent,  and  wondering  if  their  intention  was  gradually 
to  dissolve  all  our  houses.  I  heard  these  words:  "That  is  their 
aim,  but  they  will  never  see  it  accomplished — quite  the  contrary." 

LXIIP 

I  had  begun  to  make  my  confessions  to  someone  in  the  city 
where  I  am  at  present  staying.5  He  was  kindly  disposed  to  me 
and  had  been  so  ever  since  he' assumed  the  direction  of  my  soul; 
but  after  a  time  he  stopped  coming  here.  One  night,  when 
in  prayer,  I  was  thinking  how  much  I  needed  him,  when  I 
learned  that  God  was  preventing  him  from  coming  because  it  was 
better  that  I  should  entrust  my  soul's  keeping  to  someone  else 
who  lived  in  that  same  place.  I  was  worried  at  the  thought  of 
having  to  get  to  know  someone  new,  who  might  fail  to  understand 
me,  and  upset  my  life.  I  had  a  great  affection,  too,  for  the  person 
who  had  been  doing  me  this  kindness,  although  whenever  I  saw 

1  Seville :  about  the  same  tune. 

2  St.  Lukei,  46.  Cf.  Relations,  XXIX  (p.  348,  above). 

3  Seville :  about  the  same  tune.   The  Chapter-General  of  the  Galced  Carmelites 
'held  in  1575  at  Plasencia,  Italy,  recommended  the  withdrawal  of  the  patents  for 
foundations  given  to  St.  Teresa,  her  reclusion  in  a  convent  and  the  dissolution  of  the 
Discalced  Reform.   [P.  Silverio,  II,  83,  n.  4,  elaborates  from  Graaan  and  Maria 
de  San  Jose\] 

4 Toledo:  August  1576. 

5  P.  Diego  de  Yepes,  a  Hieronymite  who  later  wrote  a  biography  of  St.  Teresa 
and  became  Bishop  of  Tarazona.  She  went  to  him  on  the  advice  pf  P.  Yanguas.  He 
himself  records  how  often  he  was  prevented  by  other  duties  from  coming  to  her  con- 
vent, as  a  result  of  which  she  went  to  Dr.  Velazquez,  though  she  continued  to  consult 
P.  Yepes  from  time  to  time. 


366  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  [LXIII-LXVI 

this  other  person  or  heard  him  preach  it  caused  me  great  spiritual 
joy.  Further,  I  thought  this  new  arrangement  inconvenient 
because  the  person  concerned  was  a  very  busy  man.  Then  the 
Lord  said  to  me:  "I  will  see  that  he  hears  and  understands  thee. 
Unburden  thyself  to  him  and  he  will  bring  thee  some  relief  from 
thy  trials."  These  last  words,  I  think,  were  spoken  because  I  was 
so  troubled  just  then  at  being  absent  from  God.  It  was  at  that 
time,  too,  that  His  Majesty  told  me  that  He  well  knew  what 
trouble  I  was  in,  but  that  it  could  not  be  otherwise  while  I  lived 
in  this  exile,  and  that  it  was  all  for  my  greater  good.  This  brought 
me  real  comfort.  And  it  has  turned  out  just  as  He  said,  for  he 
delights  in  listening  to  me  and  finds  time  for  doing  so,  and  has 
understood  me  and  brought  me  great  relief.  He  is  a  very  learned 
and  saintly  man. 

LX1V1 

Once,  on  the  Feast  of  the  Presentation,  I  was  commending 
someone  earnestly  to  God  and  thinking  that  his  having  money 
and  being  free  was  really  inconsistent  with  the  great  sanctity 
which  I  was  anxious  should  be  his.  Then  it  came  to  my  mind 
how,  despite  his  poor  health,  he  was  bringing  much  light  to 
souls,  and  I  heard  these  words:  "He  is  doing  Me  great  service, 
but  the  chief  thing  is  for  him  to  follow  Me  and  be  stripped  bare  of 
everything,  as  I  was  when  I  hung  upon  the  Gross,  Tell  him  to 
trust  Me."  The  last  words  referred  to  my  thinking  that,  with 
his  poor  health,  he  could  not  attain  to  such  great  perfection. 


LXV2 

Once,  when  I  was  thinking  how  it  distressed  me  to  eat  meat 
gtfid  do  no  penance,  I  heard  these  words:  "Sometimes  there  is 
more  self-love  in  such^a  thought  than  desire  for  penance." 


LXVP 

Once,  when  I  was  greatly  distressed  at  having  offended  God, 
He  said  to  me:  "All  thy  sins,  in  My  sight,  are  as  if  they  were  not. 
Strive  in  the  future,  for  thy  trials  are  not  over." 

1  Toledo:  August  1576. 

8  While  at  Toledo,  in  1576-7,  St.  Teresa  was  so  unwell  that  her  confessors  restricted 
•her  penances  and  ordered  her  to  eat  meat. 
8  Toledo:  1576-7. 


LXVII]  SPIRITUAL  RELATIONS  367 


LXVIP 

I  was  at  Saint  Joseph's,  Avila,  in  the  hermitage  of  Nazareth, 
on  the  eve  of  Pentecost,  meditating  on  a  most  signal  favour 
which  Our  Lord  had  granted  me  on  that  day,  about  twenty 
years  earlier,2  when  I  began  to  be  conscious  of  a  vehement 
spiritual  impulse  and  fervour  which  caused  the  suspension 
of  my  faculties.  While  in  this  state  of  profound  recollection,  I 
heard  Our  Lord  say  what  I  shall  now  repeat.  I  was  to  tell  these 
Discalced  Fathers,  as  from  Him,  that  they  must  contrive  to 
observe  the  following  four  things:  for  so  long  as  they  observed 
them,  this  Order  would  grow  more  and  more,  and,  if  they  failed 
to  do  so,  they  must  realize  that  they  were  falling  from  their  early 
standards.  First,  the  superiors  must  agree  among  themselves. 
Secondly,  even  if  they  should  have  many  houses,  they  must 
have  only  a  few  friars  in  each.  Thirdly,  they  must  have  little 
to  do  with  people  living  in  the  world  and  that  only  for  the  good 
of  their  souls.  Fourthly,  they  must  give  instruction  by  deeds 
more  than  by  words.  This  was  in  the  year  1579.  And,  since 
this  is  the  exact  truth,  I  sign  it  with  my  name. 

TERESA  OF  JESUS. 

1  St.  Joseph's,  Avila  June  6,  1579. 

*Life,  Chap.  XXXVIII  (p.  270,  above).